


Heart Skip

by after_avenging_hours



Series: Hearts Soulmate AU [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Heartbeat Soulmates, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Steve Rogers Soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/after_avenging_hours/pseuds/after_avenging_hours
Summary: This is a Spin-off to my Bucky "Heartbeat" series, but can be read as a stand alone. In this world, two soulmates share a heart beat.  They race in times of joy, and slow in times of sadness. What happens when the heart in your chest that used to beat so frail and sickly, becomes strong and proud? What happens when that heart gets sealed in ice?





	1. Chapter 1

You come into the world, July 4th, 1918.  You’re a screaming, crying mess, with a full set of lungs and a pounding heart. However, after mere minutes of breathing the fresh open air, your cries begin to soften and your heart begins to slow. The doctor immediately rushes your tiny body out of the birthing room, leaving your mother in tears before she’s even given the chance to hold her baby.

The doctor and nurses frantically work over your tiny form, trying to determine the problem.  You grow less responsive and more pale with each passing moment.  It’s not until they realize that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, that they determine the cause of the problem.  With nothing left to do, they bundle you up and bring you back to your mother, grim looks on their faces.

“Is she okay?” your mother asks, reaching out for you with teary eyes.

The doctor hands you to her. “She’s perfectly heathy,” he responds, though the dismayed look doesn’t leave his features.

“Then what’s the problem?” your father asks, a hand on your mother’s shoulder as he looks down at your pale face.

“We believe that your daughter has a soulmate.  And it’s  _his_  heart that is in poor condition.  It’s affecting her as well, and I’m afraid there is nothing we can do.”

Your mother breaks down into tears once again as your father looks at the doctor incredulously.

“Surely you can do something!” you father cries in outrage.

Your mother cradles you in her arms, some of her tears dripping onto your cheek as she bends down to kiss your forehead.  “My sweet little Y/N.  Darling, you have to fight.  You have to be strong.  For both yourself and your mate.  You can do it, my love.  Be strong.”

And as if it were a miracle, a little bit of pink returns to your cheeks and you begin to stir.  A soft whine escapes your lips and moments later, you’re crying all over again.  Your parents breathe laughs of relief, because it’s a  _good_  sign.

“That’s my girl,” your father grins proudly, despite the tears of worry in his eyes as he reaches out to pat your head.

From that moment on, you live your life with the weight of your soulmate’s weakened heart.  You never complained.  You knew you were lucky enough to even  _have_  a soulmate.  Not everyone did.  In fact, most didn’t.  But it helped you to know that there was a man out there who was your perfect fit, your other half.  And you hoped beyond anything that you’d get to meet him.

It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, however.  There were times when his heart palpations would become so severe, it would make you sick, too.  You’d been bed ridden a few times, needing several days to recover.  Medicine could do nothing to help, because there wasn’t  _actually_  anything wrong with your body.

You never gave up on him, though.  Knowing that you were quite possibly the only reason he was still alive.  Using the strength of your healthy heart to keep his going.  And there was no way you were giving up before getting the chance to meet him.

-

Steve, on the other hand grew up terrified of the day he might meet you.  He felt guilty, ashamed of his weakened heart and body.  He wondered what cruel twist of fate would force someone like him upon some poor, unsuspecting woman.  He felt like he didn’t deserve you, because he had to rely on your heart to keep his going.

Growing up, he never told anyone about his soulmate.  Not even Bucky.  He was already picked on by the other kids because of his size.  It would have just been more fuel for them.  People who didn’t have a soulmate were more easily prone to feelings of jealousy and hatred.  If they knew, it would just make the bullying worse.

On bad days, he’d sometimes convince himself that maybe it was a trick.  That the second heartbeat he could feel deep in his chest wasn’t actually the soulmate link.  That it was just part of his illness.  Just another thing to add to the list of what was wrong with him.

His worst fear was that you might resent him.  That if you were to meet, you’d take one look at him, then like most women, quickly turn and move onto the next man.

On good days, he’d imagine what it would be like if you were to accept him as is.  With the way his heart must affect yours, surely meeting him wouldn’t be quite a shock.  He’d wonder if you were kind, if you had a pretty smile.  He wanted to know what kinds of things you liked.

But most of all, he wanted to become worthy of your affections.  He wanted to be the kind of man you deserved.  One that could protect you, provide you with everything you could ever want.  He wanted to be stronger, better, more…

-

June 22, 1943 was the day that changed both of your lives.

Steve sits in the back of a car, driving to an unknown location with Agent Carter sitting beside him.

“You must have danced,” Peggy enquires to Steve as the car drives through the streets of Brooklyn.

“Well, askin’ a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying.  And the past few years, just,” he pauses and shrugs a shoulder.  “Didn’t seem to matter that much.  Figured I’d wait.”

“For what?” Peggy asks in a soft voice.

Steve finds himself doing it again.  Trying to picture the face of the woman his heart is linked to.  “The right partner,” he comments, glancing out the window of the car.

The car soon pulls up to a building labeled as  _Brooklyn Antiques_.  Steve steps out of the car, questioning briefly what they’re doing there, before Peggy gets him inside.

Just a few blocks away, you are working as a seamstress for Audrey’s Bridalwear.  Audrey was a strict, but fair employer, running the business with her husband.  She had two other girls in her employ, but on that particular day, it’s just the two of you at the shop.

You’re helping Audrey with a customer, the future Mrs. Brandy.  You’d taken her into the back to try on her wedding dress.  You make a few quick adjustments before bringing her out front for Audrey to see.  “Oh, you look lovely, my dear,” Audrey compliments with a wide grin.

She tells you a few notes to jot down on other little fixes the dress is going to require.  You nod along, quickly writing things down in a notebook.  You pause momentarily when you feel your heartrate beginning to spike.

You try to keep your breathing steady, in order to prepare for the oncoming palpitations.  “Um, Audrey,” you interrupt as politely as you can. “I think I’m going to need a minute.”

Noting the faded pallor of your skin, Audrey nods in understanding.  She knew you had some sort of condition, though she didn’t know the full details.  “Yes, of course.  Take all the time you need,” she dismisses you, taking the notebook out of your hands.

“Is she alright?” you hear Mrs. Brandy ask as you move to the back room.

You nearly collapse onto one of the settees when your heart suddenly works itself into a frenzy.  You double over, trying to quiet a startled scream, so you don’t frighten the two in the shop.  You’ve never felt palpitations so strong before.

You have no idea what could be happening to your mate.  You hold a hand to your chest where it feels like your heart is about to beat out of your ribs.  It almost hurts.  Your breaths come in quick succession, soon making you light headed.  Just when you think you’re about to pass out, your heart begins to steady out.

You breathe a sigh of relief, falling back onto the small couch and closing your eyes.  You try to focus on your breathing, keeping a hand over your slowing heart.  A frown curls across your lips when it doesn’t slow to its normal pace.  Usually when it flies into a flurry, there’s a distinct lull period when your mate’s body tries to recover.

However, that didn’t seem to be happening.  Your heartbeat was strong.  Powerful. Beating at a steady pace it never has before.

Slowly sitting back up, you keep a hand to your chest, counting the beats to make sure you aren’t hallucinating.

After realizing that there’s not much of a point in staying in the back now that you feel fine, you slowly stand and move back into the front room.  You’ve barely stepped through the threshold of the door when a body crashes through the front window of the shop.  You jump in surprise, Audrey and Mrs. Brandy quickly moving out of the way.

The man scrambles to his feet, bare feet you notice briefly, before he’s back out the window.  “I’m sorry!” he throws briefly over his shoulder.

“Are you okay?!” you ask, rushing over to Audrey, helping her to her feet as the fiancé of the customer enters the store to see to his bride-to-be.

“What in the world was  _that_?!” Audrey screams.

“I’m not sure.  Wait here.”  You step over the glass and out the door, watching the strange man turn down an alley.  “Hey!” You call after him.  You’re not very fast in your heels, but you try to give chase anyway.  Coming to a stop at the beginning of the alley, you just manage to catch sight of the mystery man leaping over a chain-link fence. You release an annoyed huff as he disappears from view.

You walk back to the shop, taking in the damage.  Three of the windows have the glass knocked out, the window pane in between two completely missing.  There’s a mannequin face first on the sidewalk, her legs exposed with the dress pulled over her head.  You sigh in dismay, reaching down to pick up the mannequin and set her back in the window. You’re mindful of the glass as you attempt to right the dress without ripping the fabric.

“Did you see who did this?” Audrey asks, a pinched look on her face.

You shake your head solemnly.  “He got away. Seemed in an awful hurry.”

She sighs, “It’s just as well.  I’ve been wanting to re-do the windows anyways.  Now Thomas can’t tell me no.”

You laugh lightly, relieved that she doesn’t appear to be angry.  “I’ll get a broom.  Did Mr. Brandy take his fiancé home?” you ask, noticing the lack of customers in the shop.

You grab the broom from behind the counter and start on the broken glass.

“Yes, the dress ended up with a rip in the side.  I told them I’d fix it free of charge.  But this is quite a mess.  I’m going to call Thomas, we’re going to need a tarp to cover the windows until they can be repaired.  Don’t strain yourself, too much, dear,” Audrey worries over you, remembering that you’d just had one of your episodes.

You give her a fleeting smile, “I feel fine, Audrey.  No need to worry.”

It’s almost strange how accurate that statement is.  You don’t think your body has ever felt this good.  You feel stronger, almost.  And you have more energy than you’ve had in a long time, maybe ever.

The shop is closed for the rest of the day and you spend it cleaning up the glass that has pretty much gone  _everywhere_  and then you begin to repair the damaged dresses from the front display.  You take advantage of this new found energy to get as much done as possible. You’re a little fearful that tomorrow things are going to go back to normal.

-

However, that doesn’t seem to happen.  The next day, your heart feels just as strong and steady.  You wake up that morning, still feeling energized, like you’ve just had the best night’s sleep of your life.  It’s difficult now to try to convince yourself that maybe this won’t last.

Your two coworkers are back at the shop that morning.  You’ve known Annette and Dorothy for about 2 years now.  Annette is incredibly sweet, but she tends to live with her head in the clouds.  She runs in many different circles, so she’s always up to date on the latest gossip. Dorothy is the more devious one. You wouldn’t go as far as to call her a loose girl, but she did seem to have a different man taking her out dancing every Friday night.  They both had their pros and cons, but they were the best friends you’d ever had.

Annette nearly assaults you with the morning paper as soon as her heels are clicking through the front door of the shop.  Dorothy comes in right after and moves to put her coat and purse on the coat rack behind the register counter.

“Is this the man?!” Annette asks with enthusiasm, holding the paper to your face.

You have to rear back a little just to read it.  On the front page, in bold letters it says: NAZIS IN NEW YORK, MYSTERY MAN SAVES CHILD

Beneath that is a picture of a man, holding the side door to a taxi.  You frown slightly at the picture.  Reaching out, you gently pull the paper out of Annette’s hand and take a closer look at the photograph.  There’s something about it that makes your heart race.  “I… I honestly don’t know,” you shake your head, pulling your gaze from the paper to look at her.  “I never saw his face.”

Annette pouts, taking the paper back and flipping it around so she can look at it.  “I wonder who he is.”

You shrug, turning your attention to the door for Audrey’s office as she steps through.  “A mysterious benefactor has offered to pay for the damages,” she announces.

“What?” you ask in surprise.

“Who?” Dorothy asks.

Audrey looks over the three of you with a raised brow.  “I did say mysterious, didn’t I?  All I was able to pry out of him was a  _Mr. Phillips_.  I’m a little doubtful, but-”

She’s cut off when the bell over the door rings.  “We’re here for the window repair,” a man in coveralls states, stepping through.

Audrey frowns at him in mild surprise before she moves to instruct his team in what she wants done. They work quickly and efficiently, following Audrey’s instructions to the T.  Annette and Dorothy shamelessly watch them work with flirtatious smiles on their lips as you move into the back to get some work done.

You can’t seem to get that newspaper picture of that man out of your head.  You wonder who he is.  Was that really the same man that crashed through the window yesterday?  Why did you have this deep yearning to see him again?


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few days, news of  _Captain America_  spreads like wildfire.  And when word gets out that  _our_  shop had been the one he crashed into, the shop’s customer count nearly triples. Audrey appreciates the increase in sales, but you and the girls are working a lot of overtime hours.

As the weeks pass, things seem to settle into a more comfortable, if still hectic, routine. You’re at the shop early, as you’ve grown accustom to, getting to work almost immediately.  Dorothy comes in next, but after hanging up her coat, she settles behind the cashier counter with a magazine.

“Girls!  You’ll never guess what I’ve got!”  Annette’s lyrical voice fills the shop upon her entrance, rivaling the bell over the door.

You glance up from your position.  You’re kneeling down on the floor, working on the bottom hem of a wedding dress as it rests on a mannequin.

“I’m sure you’re about to tell us,” Dorothy responds, keeping her gaze locked on the magazine.

Annette bustles behind the counter, too.  Shrugging out of her coat and hanging it up on the coat rack.  “You’re supposed to guess!”

You release a gentle laugh, turning back to your stitching.  “Just tell us, Annie.”

Annette riffles around in her purse for a moment before pulling out a few slips of paper.  “Three Tickets to the Captain America Tour!”

“What?!” Dorothy shrieks, quickly snatching the tickets from her friend’s hands to verify their authenticity.

You look up once more, in surprise.  “How on Earth did you get those?  They sold out the first day!”

Annette grins proudly. “My brother, Willie, works for the theater.  He managed to snag a few extra tickets!”

“Please tell me these are for us!” Dorothy begs, clutching the tickets to her chest.  “Please, please, please!!!”

Annette laughs.  “Of course!  But it gets better!!”  She turns back to her purse, riffling for a few more papers.  “Willie got us the extra tickets for taking pictures with him after the show!”

Dorothy screams in excitement, snatching those tickets from Annette’s fingers, too.

You laugh lightly at your two absurd friends.

Annette allows Dorothy to fawn over the tickets for a few seconds before she snatches them back. “So it’s time to dust off our best dresses and get all dolled up.  Maybe one of us will catch his eye!” she grins cheekily.

You shake your head before turning back to your work.  “I don’t know, Annie…  A man that represents hope, freedom and the American way?  A guy like that is bound to have a soulmate.”

Annette frowns as she contemplates your words.

Dorothy shrugs a shoulder. “Not necessarily.  Only the purest of hearts get a soulmate.  And with a body like that…  That man’s sure to have a little sin in him.”  She’s smirking by the end of her words, bumping her hip against Annette’s as the two of them giggle.

Annette turns to put the tickets back in her purse, releasing a dreamy sigh.  “But could you imagine being  _his_  soulmate?  He’s such a dreamboat.”

“I’d kill to be that woman,” Dorothy responds, flipping the page of her magazine.

You frown, keeping your comments to yourself.  You know she didn’t  _actually_  mean it, but that was the precise reason you never told them that you  _did_  have a soulmate.  Humans were fickle creatures and often wanted things they couldn’t have, or grew jealous of the ones that did have them.  It wasn’t uncommon for mated couples to be targets to hate crimes. You’re pulled from your dark thoughts when Dorothy speaks again.

“Y/N, you’re so lucky you were here when he came to the shop.”

Your lips twitch in amusement as you remain concentrated on your stitching.  “He didn’t  _come to the shop_ , he crashed through the window.  I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him before he was jumping over the glass and throwing an apology over his shoulder.  Nearly scared Mr. and Mrs. Brandy half to death.”

“And then he saved that innocent little boy!  He’s so heroic,” Annette sighs once more.  She has stars in her eyes, and you can tell she’s already fallen in love with this man, even if she’s never even met him.

Normally you wouldn’t mind. That was just Annie’s personality. But for some reason, with her fawning all over the Captain… It just didn’t sit right with you.  You tried to push those feelings to the back of your mind. It was just an innocent crush. Nearly every woman in America had one for him.

“Anyway… The show’s next Friday.  Dorothy I know you’re bouncing to go, but Y/N, what about you?”  Annette asks.

Another unexplainable feeling arises.  The thought of going seems to make you a little nervous, anxious even.  More so when you recall that you would be meeting him face to face after the show…

You know that they won’t take no for an answer, so you force a smile onto your lips and look up at the two of them.  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

-

Next Friday comes faster than you would expect.  You pull out one of your favorite dresses from the back of the closet.  It was rare for you to dress up as much as you were for tonight.  You didn’t go on many dates.  It’s not that you’d never been asked, it’s just that you’d been hoping to spend those moments with your soulmate.

Your hair had been in curlers all day until you were ready to pin your curls in place for the night. Your make up is flawless, choosing to go with a dark red lipstick you normally left for special occasions.  You meet Annette and Dorothy at the theater. It’s positively thriving with activity, making it difficult to find them.

Once you do, Annette hands you your ticket and the three of you bustle inside.  Your seats are pretty far to the back, but you don’t mind. After all, the tickets  _had_  been free.  The show is incredible.  The three of you admire the dancers’ costumes and giggle over the Captain’s.  When he speaks, his voice seems to lull you into a daze.  You could listen to him talk for hours and it wouldn’t even matter to you what he says.

Looking around, you quickly realize you’re not the only one.  Both Annette and Dorothy have whimsical looks on their faces, soft sighs leaving their lips on occasion.  As do most of the women in the audience.  There’s one sitting a few rows in front of you that you’re pretty sure almost fainted when the Captain picks up a motorcycle with three dancers on it and effortlessly holds them over his head during the final number.

He stands there, smiling charmingly as everyone sings and dances around him.  Canons full of confetti go off, filling the air with colorful, glittering pieces of paper.

When the song ends, the crowd roars with applause, nearly everyone standing from their seats, some even standing  _on_  their seats.  You laugh as Dorothy and Annette bounce and scream in a desperate attempt to gain the Captain’s attention before the stage goes dark.

When the main lights come back on, Annette quickly grabs you and Dorothy by the hand to drag you out into the theater lobby.  “Come on, come on!  It’s time to meet him!” she’s giddy with excitement.  It’s difficult not to feel the contagiousness of it, but at the same time, you still feel a little nervous.

A line has already formed. The girls take this time to touch up their makeup and fluff their hair.  You wring your purse with your hands, feeling more and more nervous the closer you get to the front of the line.  “You alright, Y/N?” Dorothy asks after noticing how quiet you’ve become. Annette turns to you curiously as well.

“Hmm?” you mumble distractedly, before noticing their strange looks.  You berate yourself and put a smile back on your face.  “Oh, I think I’m just a little nervous about making a fool of myself.  I’ve never met anyone famous before.”

The two of them giggle. “Oh, you’ll be fine.  Just smile for the camera and try not to trip in your heels,” Annette tries to assure you.

Before you know it, you’re hearing a man call out “ _Next_!” and you’re walking into the small room that’s been set up for the meet and greet. You look around briefly, noting the long red curtain draped as the backdrop, and there are all sorts of posters and propaganda prompting you to buy Defense Bonds.  As soon as your gaze lands on the man standing in the center of the room, you realize you didn’t actually have to worry about tripping, because all of a sudden you can’t move at all.

His eyes are so  _blue_.  They’re bright and warm and they seem to pull you in the longer you spend gazing at them. His full lips curl up into a small smile.  “Hi,” he greets you.

Your heart skips a beat, the deep tenor of his voice completely washing over you.  “Hi,” your response is breathless and it makes your cheeks flush.  You’re only able to break your gaze away when you feel your heart skip another beat, only this time, it’s not coming from you.  You have to berate yourself again.  You’re not supposed to be oogling handsome men when you have a soulmate.

“Ma’am, are you getting in the picture or not?” the camera man questions, giving you an annoyed look.

You look at him in confusion.  “I’m sorry?”

“Y/N, come on!” you look toward the direction of Annette’s voice, to find her and Dorothy saddled on either side of the Captain.  The two of them are looking at you expectantly.

Your cheeks flush even hotter.  “Oh! Sorry,” you apologize, quickly shuffling next to her.  You make sure to keep your gaze away from the man just on the other side of her shoulder as she wraps an arm around your waist.

You focus on the camera, putting another smile on your lips.  The flash goes off and you don’t even have time to recover from the blinding light before you’re hearing the camera man shout another “ _Next!_ ”

Annette grabs your hand to pull you out of the room, fearful that’s you’re going to embarrass her again. You try to resist the urge to look back at him, but ultimately end up failing.  You catch his gaze once more, this time noticing the curiosity behind the sky blue of his irises.  You only get a brief glance before you’re pulled around the corner and out of his sight.

The three of you move to another line where you have to give them your tickets so they know where to send the photos after they’ve been developed.

“What happened to you in there?” Dorothy asks, once you’ve placed yourselves in the line.

You swallow thickly, glancing down at your hands to avoid their gazes.  “I don’t know.  One look into his eyes and I froze…  I  _told_  you I was going to make a fool of myself.”

“Sounds to me like love at first sight,” Annette jokes with a light laugh.

“Get in line,” Dorothy giggles.

You try to force out a laugh for their sakes, but deep down you can’t stop thinking about how strange that encounter was.  And you especially couldn’t get the image of his piercing gaze out of your head.

* * *

As for Steve, he couldn’t get the image of your smile out of  _his_. The way your painted lips stretched and your cheeks lifted.  He’s seen a lot of pretty dames over the last few months, but there was something about you that stood out.  Something that made you seem  _special_.

He manages to get through a few more pictures before he can’t take it anymore.  He  _has_  to see you again.

Before the camera man can scream his usual  _next_ , Steve cuts it.  “I’m sorry. I’m going to need a minute.”

He darts out the exit before anyone can stop him.  In the next room, he sees that there’s another set of lines formed with people signing out for their pictures.  His eyes sweep over the crowd, trying to find you.  He doesn’t get much time before someone notices his presence and the group starts to swarm.

Even though they’d all just seen him, they were all eager to get one more moment with him.  He smiles politely, trying to make his way through the crowd, using his recently acquired height to his advantage.  He frowns when your face isn’t one of the ones looking back at him.

He must have just missed you.  He’s about to give up and head back to the meet and greet room, when a new thought strikes him.  He’d heard your friend call out you name, so at least there was hope.

He navigates the crowd to get to the tables.  “Excuse me, can I look at this?” he asks the person sitting behind the table.  Without really waiting for permission, he flips the notebook around and quickly scans the names.  Looking at the most recent entrees, none of them are you.

He takes a step to the side and moves onto the next notebook.  Your name isn’t in that one, either.

It’s not until the third notebook that he finds you.  Y/N L/N. Your address is handwritten in ink directly below it.  Steve’s hear skips in his chest, burning the address into his memory.  He glances across the table at the worker in charge of this notebook and thanks his lucky stars when he recognizes the man.

“Robbie, remember when I signed that poster for your boy and you said you owed me one?” Steve questions.

Robbie eyes him curiously. “Yeah…”

“You think you can get me a copy of photograph 280421?” Steve asks, glancing back down at the notebook, to make sure the number matches with the one that’s getting sent to you.

“Uh, sure thing, Cap.” The man agrees.

Steve grins down at him. “Thanks,” with a parting nod, he turns to face the crowd and makes his way back to the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next several days, you catch yourself day dreaming about the Star Spangled Man with a plan. It was difficult to get away from him. He was the only thing Annette and Dorothy talked about at work.  His posters were hung in the shop windows of almost every store.  His movies played in the theaters and his commercials played on the radio.

In your down time, you find yourself sketching his image a lot.  You were more accustomed to sketching out wedding dresses and designer outfits, so you find yourself focusing more on his costume.  It helped when your picture came in the mail a few days later.

You looked painfully awkward and out of place in the photo.  Annette and Dorothy looked like pinup girls on either side of him, dressed to the nines, makeup and hair in perfect place.  And then there was you, standing just close enough to Annette to be in the picture, but you’re clearly distracted and distanced from the rest of them.

At one point, you end up folding the picture, blocking yourself and your friends out so it’s just the Captain that’s in view.  You prop the photo up on your work desk, in your apartment, and go back to sketching.

When you’ve got the basic design of the costume down, you begin to play with it a little.  At some point, the design becomes less like a costume and more like a military uniform.  The color scheme remains the same, but the functionality of the design becomes a lot more fitting for combat rather than stage shows.

You add a little bit of shading to the drawing before setting down your colored pencil and holding the sketch out.  You smile, thinking that this one is by far your favorite of the sketches you’ve done so far.  Setting the paper back down, your eyes gravitate to the small clock propped on the corner of your desk.

“What?!” you gasp, when you note the time.  You’d been so distracted by the drawing, you hadn’t realized you were supposed to be at work in 15 minutes!

You shuffle the sketch and a few others into your notebook, you’re planning to work on them more while on your lunch break.  You then rush to the bathroom to get ready for work.

* * *

Steve glances down at the paper in his hand.  An address is printed clearly on the slip in his handwriting.  He’d written it down that night of the show, almost a week ago, for fear that’d he’d forget.  He hadn’t, but having the assurance of the paper helped.

As he stands out in the sun on the sidewalk, his eyes lift up to wash over the building in front of him. The number painted over the door matches the one on the paper.  It’s an apartment complex.  One nicer than what he used to live in, but not by much.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to build up the nerve to go in.  This is probably one of the craziest things he’s ever done.  Well… if you didn’t count the whole super soldier-science experiment thing.

But to track down a woman he saw for maybe 5 minutes?  To show up at her home, unannounced?  This was something a skinny Steve Rogers never would have  _dreamed_  of doing.  And it was making the large Steve Rogers question all his life choices.

The slip burns in the palm of his hand.  He’s come all the way over here.  What was the point of trying to track her down if he were to give up now?  Steve Rogers never runs away from a fight.  But what the hell does he do when the one blocking his path… is himself?

He releases another breath, feeling his palms begin to sweat.  If he was going to do it, he had to do it now.  He’s going on a plane tonight to continue the USO tour overseas. It’s a miracle he even managed to get a few minutes to spare to do this.

Steeling his nerves, Steve steps up to the door and pushes it open.  The lobby is small, mainly just a small entry way that turns to a hallway for the elevators.  To the right, a desk is built back into the wall, a small window separating Steve from the person on the other side.  He doesn’t pay them any mind, his only intention to get to the elevator.

“Excuse me, sir. Where do you think you’re going?” The stern voice grabs Steve’s attention when he tries to walk passed the desk.

He pauses and back tracks, seeing an older woman with features permanently set into a scowl. He tries to give her a polite smile, only to be met with a blank response.  “Um.  I’m here to see someone.”

He’s not sure how, but her scowl seems to deepen.  “You do realize that this is a boarding house for  _women_ , correct?” she questions, her eyes moving up and down his form, noting that he clearly  _wasn’t_  a woman.

Steve’s brow furrows, not understanding what that has to do with anything.  “I’m sorry?”

“Men are not allowed above the first floor.”

He looks at her in surprise. That seemed a little absurd to him. Although, now that he thinks about it, he remembers Bucky telling him stories about these types of building. How he’d have to climb the fire escape to get to a girl’s room.  Steve releases a soft sigh before placing the charming smile he’s grown accustomed to on his lips.  “Ma’am, I’m not sure if you realized this.  But I’m Captain America.”  He can’t believe he’s pulling this card, but if it’ll get him through the door…

The woman doesn’t even blink.  “I don’t care if you’re Jesus himself, risen once again.  You’re still a  _man_  and that means you aren’t allowed above the first floor.”

Steve’s smile falls before he looks at her with desperation.  “Please.  I just need to talk to Y/N L/N for a few minutes.”

“Is she expecting you?”

Steve hesitates, “Well, no. But-”

“Then I can’t help you,” she cuts him off with a tone of finality.

Steve leans forward, placing his hands on the wall on either side of the window.  “Can you at least call her to tell her I’m here?  Or-”

In the distance, the elevator dings as it reaches the bottom floor.  As soon as the doors are open, heeled feet can be heard against the tiled floor.  The pace is hurried as the person approaches.  “Good morning, Ms. Dwyre!”  Steve hears the lyrical voice as the woman passes behind him.

“No running through the lobby!” the scowling woman commands.

“Sorry!” you respond unapologetically, you’re too worried about being late for work.  You don’t even notice the man standing there before you burst through the front door.

The woman focuses her attention back on Steve.  “No point in calling her now.  You’ve just missed her.”

Steve blanches, realizing that that had been you.  He pushes off the wall and darts for the door.  He steps out into the bright sunlight just in time to see you jumping into a taxi.  There’s a notebook clutched in your palm, however just as you’re stepping into the car, a paper slips out.  The missing piece goes unnoticed as you close the door and the taxi takes off.

“Hey wait!” Steve calls in vain, jogging toward the curb.  The taxi continues without heed, soon turning a corner and leaving his line of sight.

Steve releases a dejected sigh.  Watching his one chance at seeing you again slip through his fingers.

A soft wind picks up your fallen paper.  It tumbles a few times before settling at Steve’s feet.  He frowns and tilts his head slightly, having caught a glimpse of red, white and blue.  Bending down, he picks up the paper and turns it over.

His brows shoot up in surprise when he realizes that it’s  _him_. Well… kind of.  There’s no mistaking what the design of this uniform is based on.  It’s his costume.  But somehow, you’ve managed to turn it into a military uniform.  There are buckles down the front and across his back.  He has a leather utility belt and a thigh holster. It looks so much more official.

Now  _this_  is something Steve could see himself wearing.

His gaze lifts once more, looking in the direction your taxi disappeared.  So maybe he didn’t get the chance to see you.  But the proof that you were thinking about him, possibly as much as he’s been thinking about you, rests in his hands.  Steve carefully folds the drawing up and tucks it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

It joins the item that’s already been placed there for safe keeping.  A picture of you.  Steve had no need for a picture of himself, and no care for looking at the two other women in the picture.  So, after Robbie had given him the photograph, he promptly tore off the important half and tossed the rest.  The two items combined in his pocket seem to burn against the skin of his chest, directly over his heart.

He takes one last look at the building, promising himself that he’s going to come back the next time he’s in New York.  He just hopes that you’ll still be here when he does.

* * *

You huff in slight frustration as you step out the taxi after a long day at work.  The shop had been busier than usual, and it was difficult to keep up.  Not only that, but you seem to have misplaced your most recent drawing of Captain America. You flipped through every single page of your notebook, knowing that it had been tucked into it.  When you couldn’t find it, all you could hope for was that it somehow fell out in your apartment.

You push open the front door and step into the lobby.

“Ms. L/N!”

Uh oh.  That tone of voice only meant trouble.  You hesitantly approach the window, “Yes, Ms. Dwyre?”

The deep grooves in her forehead stretch when she frowns.  “The next time you consider giving your address to riffraff, may I suggest that you simply  _don’t_?”

Your head tilts in confusion.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I understand your meaning.”

“A man came to see you today.  Was awfully insistent that I allow him upstairs.”

This only seems to confuse you even more.  “A man? I wasn’t expecting anyone.  Did he leave a name?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes.  “He claimed to be  _Captain America_.”

That makes your heart skip a beat, your eyes going wide.  “He what?!”

Ms. Dwyre continues with a dismissive wave of her hand.  “Of course I didn’t believe him and before I could call security to send him off, he left after you ran passed.”

Your head swims as you step away from the window.  Surely it couldn’t have  _actually_  been him.  How would he know where to find you?  Why would he even be looking for you?

But still… it was certainly a nice thought.

“I apologize, Ms. Dwyre. I’m not sure how this man acquired my address, but I’ll try to prevent future instances.”

“Make sure that you do,” her face pinches unattractively, her gaze glowering as you step away.

You release a soft sigh. If only you hadn’t been running so late this morning.  Maybe you would have been able to see who came to visit you.  There’s not much you can do about it now.  Maybe the man will try to visit you again.

* * *

Going overseas is a strange experience for Steve.  Traveling the country was one thing, but leaving the States all together was completely different.  It didn’t help that it felt like he had a giant gaping hole in his chest the entire time. It took him a few days before realizing that it was from the soulmate bond.  He’d never been this far away from New York, and thus he’d never been so far away from  _her_.

It wasn’t a painful feeling exactly.  He just felt kind of  _empty_.  Like something was always missing and he just couldn’t put his finger on it.  It was a little uncomfortable and hard to get used to, but focusing on his performance and the shows helped as a distraction.

He then finds himself performing for the 107th, though he hadn’t known it until after Peggy told him.  His heart pounds when he realizes he has a decision to make.  He stares at the map on the wall in Colonel Phillip’s tent. Go to the Hydra base to rescue the captured soldiers, but put both himself and his defenseless soulmate at risk? Or continue prancing around stages across Europe where he knew he would be safe.

The photograph and drawing tucked into the inner pocket of his coat burns into his skin.  But he knows he can’t just let this go.  If there’s even a  _chance_  he can save them, he has to take it.  He hopes you’ll forgive him for his reckless actions. But he’d rather come home to you an  _actual_  hero, not an imposter in a silly costume. He wanted to be the man you pictured him as, the one you drew a picture of.

Traveling to the Hydra base in Austria and saving Bucky had been a  _huge_  distraction.  He was almost able to forget about the ache in his chest.  And then having Bucky back managed to fill in part of the void.  While at the main SSR base in London, Steve soon finds himself at another crossroad.  He’d done good, saving all those men.  He could save more.  He could  _end_  the war.  But how long would it take?  How long would it be before he stepped back on American soil.  How long before he might see you?

His chest throbs when he tells Colonel Phillips that he’ll stay.  In his head it’s the right decision.  This is what Dr. Erskine wanted from him.  This is what  _he_  wanted.  At least… it  _was_ … at one point.

He just hoped that after all this was over, you’d still be there.  That you’d wait just a little longer.

Steve finds himself handing your drawing of his uniform to Howard Stark.  In a way, it helped him feel closer to you.  Made the distance between you both just a little more bearable. He kept your picture with him at all times too.  He often found himself looking at it when he as alone.

* * *

“You alright, Y/N?” Annette calls softly.

“Hmm?” you mumble distractedly, before the question fully hits you and you snap out of it. “Oh.  Yes, I’m fine,” you plaster that familiar smile onto your lips, glancing at her and Dorothy from where they’re perched behind the register counter.

Neither of them look convinced.  “You’ve been acting funny recently.  Are you gettin’ sick?” Annette asks in concern.

Dorothy nods in agreement. “You  _have_  been a little off.”

You shift behind one of the mannequins, away from their direct line of sight.  You fiddle with the dress to make yourself look busy. “It’s nothing, you both worry too much.”

“You didn’t even react when I said there were new pictures of Captain America on the front line,” Annette pouts.

That’s when you notice that the two of them are huddled over the morning paper.

You release a small laugh, shaking your head.  “Haven’t you seen enough pictures of him in that costume?  You’ve met him in person,” you remind them.

“Well, that’s what we were saying,” Dorothy tells you.  “He’s actually canceled his shows and is going to start fighting on the front line. They’ve given him a new combat uniform and everything!”

Sighing quietly, you move toward the counter to humor them.  However, when your gaze drops to the paper, you have to do a double take. You quickly turn the paper around so it’s facing in your direction.  There, plastered on half of the front page, is Captain America… wearing  _your_  uniform.

“He looks delicious, doesn’t he?” Annette giggles, mistaking the shock on your face for awe.

Your heart pounds in your chest.  How was this possible?  Was it purely a coincidence?  But… it looked  _exactly_  like the drawing you misplaced.  That’s when you remember that that was the day you’d had your mysterious visitor. The one that called himself Captain America.  Could he have found your missing drawing?

You grow a little light headed, this being too much for your mind to wrap around.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Dorothy asks with worry, noting the faded tone of your skin.

“I…  I…” You can’t even form a coherent response, your eyes glued to the picture.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Annette walks around the counter, gently guiding you to the back room to sit you on the couch.

Dorothy soon comes, handing you a glass of water.  You take a small sip, your gaze staring glassily ahead.  The two share a look of concern.  You hadn’t had one of your usual episodes in a while, they both realize. But, this seemed different from that.

“Call for us if you need anything,” Annette tells you, with a gentle pat to your hair before the two of them move back out to the front.

Your mind works at the fastest speed possible to try to pull an explanation for what was going on. Though the conclusion you seem to be headed for seems almost  _more_ unbelievable than the fact that the Captain somehow managed to get his hands on your drawing.

It couldn’t be possible. Out of  _all_  the men in the world?

But at the same time… even through the absurdity of it… it made a little sense.

You gaining more strength on the  _day_  he made the front news of being a hero.  The way the world seemed to disappear when your eyes locked with his for a small moment. The hole that grew in your chest and the longing the settled deep in your belly they day he left the country to start touring overseas.

Captain America was your soulmate.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s been a few months now, working on the front lines, taking out the Hydra bases Steve saw on the map in Zola’s office and discovering new ones along the way.

The Howling Commandos have set up camp for the night, tents erected in a circle around a small fire.  Steve had first watch, which was fine by him, he couldn’t really sleep anyways.  Bucky offered to stay up too.  Steve had told him he didn’t have to, but the stubborn brunette was perched next to him on the chopped log they were using as a makeshift bench.

The two sit in silence, both lost in thought as the warm glow of the fire dances in front of their eyes. The soft crackling of the fire and Dum Dum’s snores are the only sounds that fill the still night air.

“Buck, can I tell you something?” Steve asks hesitantly, disrupting the lull that’s settled between them.

Bucky chuckles quietly in amusement, before noticing the serious look in his friend’s eyes.  His lips draw into a concerned frown.  “You can tell me anything, Rogers.  You know that.”

Steve releases a long breath, glancing down to where he’s laced his fingers together, his hands resting in his lap.  “I think I might have found my soulmate,” he admits after a long pause.

Bucky raises a brow in curiosity.  “Agent Carter?” he guesses.

“What?” Steve looks at him confused.  “Oh! No.  Not Peggy,” Steve corrects, though he understands why Bucky may have thought that.  He reaches into one of the pouches on his belt.  Pulling out the picture, he unfolds it, taking a moment to look over your smiling face before he hands it over.  “Her name’s Y/N.”

Bucky takes the picture, his eyes washing over the black and white image.  He releases a low whistle.  “She’s pretty.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, unable to take his eyes off the picture in Bucky’s hands.

Noticing where his friend’s gaze is locked, Bucky hands the picture back to Steve.  “How’d you meet?”

Steve’s gaze flicks back to Bucky’s.  “You’re not surprised?” he questions.  Admitting you had a soulmate was a big deal.  Especially since they’ve known each other so long.

Bucky shrugs a shoulder casually, placing his hands on the log behind him and leaning back.  “I kinda figured.  I mean, if an idiot like me can have one, it was highly probable that you did too.”

Steve’s brows shoot up in shock.  “Wait,  _you_  have one?”

Bucky laughs in amusement. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He punches Steve playfully in the shoulder.  “So how did you meet?” he repeats his earlier question.

Steve glances back down at the picture in his hands.  “She came to one of my shows,” he explains.  “Took a picture with me and her two friends.   _This_  picture,” he gestures to the photograph in his hands.

Bucky waits for Steve to continue, but when he doesn’t Bucky frowns.  “That’s it?”

Steve give him a questioning glance.  “What do you mean?”

“You saw this dame for what? 5 minutes?  To take a picture?  What makes you think she’s the one?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Do you have any idea how many dames I took pictures with before that?”

Now Bucky rolls his eyes. “Oh boo-hoo.  Cry me a river, Rogers.”

Steve laughs, knocking his shoulder with Bucky’s.  “No, I mean… As soon as she walked through the door, I could tell that something was different about her.  The moment our eyes met there was this  _connection_.  Everything around me stopped.  The buzzing in my head went silent.  And then she smiled and it was like seeing sunshine for the first time.  My heart stopped…  She took my breath away,” Steve describes, recounting the event with a dopey smile on his lips and a far away look in his eyes.

Bucky smiles fondly at his best friend.  He’s happy for Steve.  But the snarkiness isn’t too far off.  “I don’t know, pal.  Sounds to me like that’s something you need to get checked by a doctor.”

The wistfulness is wiped almost instantly as Steve pins Bucky with a flat look.  “Seriously, Buck?”

Bucky howls like a hyena, slapping his palm to Steve’s back.  “I kidding!  Geez, you’ve gotten a whole lot more serious since your transformation.”

Steve rolls his eyes again, adding a shake of his head.  “Remind me again why I keep you around?”

Bucky grins cheekily, but doesn’t grace Steve’s question with a response.  “In all seriousness, though.  I’m glad you found her.  Just can’t believe you found yours before I found mine.  I mean, you weren’t even  _trying_!”

Steve smirks. “Sometimes you just gotta let things happen.”

Bucky shakes his head. “But what good did that do you? You only got 5 minutes with her.”

Steve takes one last look at the photograph before folding it back up and tucking it into his belt. “I tried to track her down before I left,” he admits.

Bucky raises a brow. “Oh?  How’d you manage that?”

“Well,” Steve starts, looking a little embarrassed.  “When people come to the meet and greet after the show… they have to leave their address, so the picture can get sent to them after it’s been developed.”

Bucky smirks in amusement. “Please tell me you went to her house.”

He scratches at the back of his neck, his cheeks tinting.  “She, uh… She lived at a boarding house,” he confesses.

Bucky erupts into another round of raucous laughter, even going to so far as to slap his knee.  “I can’t believe it!   _My_  little Steve trying to break into a boarding house to see his girl!  You’re finally a grown up, I’m so proud.”

“Shut up!” Steve grumbles, his cheeks darkening.

Bucky’s laughter eventual slows into a more controllable chuckle.  “So, how’d it go?”

Steve sighs.  “Not well.”

“Don’t tell me you just tried to walk through the front door.”

“Well I didn’t know!” Steve mutters defensively.

Bucky snickers.  “So you got stopped by the mean lady they always keep at the front desk?”

“Yup,” Steve confirms with a pop of his lips.  “And  _as_  I’m trying to convince her to let me upstairs… Y/N ends up running right passed me.  She must have been late or something.  By the time I realize it’s her and try to go after her, she was already jumping into a taxi and taking off.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully, listening to the story.  “So, you actually manage to track her down… Why didn’t you try again?  Honestly, what is your dumb ass doing all the way out here? Don’t you wanna be with her?”

“Well, yeah.  Of course.  But…” Steve sighs, once again feeling conflicted about the decisions he’s made.  “I made a promise to serve my country before she came along.  I just have to hope that she’ll still be there when I get back.”

Bucky shakes his head, not entirely agreeing with Steve’s reasoning.  “Just don’t make her wait too long.  It’s not fair to her.  She  _didn’t_  sign up for this war.”

Steve glances down at his fiddling fingers once again.  “I know.”

Bucky observes his friend for a moment before leaning forward and resting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.  “Tell you what…  How about after we end this damn war, you and I go back home, find our girls and take ‘em on a  _real_  double date?  Something special.  Something that’ll be sure to sweep them off their feet.  Give ‘em the old Brooklyn charm.”

Steve chuckles lightly, his lips pulling into a crooked grin.  “That sounds good, Buck.  Real good,” he nods.

Bucky nods too, his hand giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze.  “It’s a date.”

-

Time seems to blur together for you.  Days turn into weeks, weeks become months, and before you know it, months have become years.  The war drags on.  With Annette around, you’re always up to date on the latest news from the front line.  Captain America and his Howling Commandos have swept across Europe, pushing back the enemy lines and furthering the cause of the Allied soldiers.  There were many hopeful predictions that we were coming to the end of the war.  That there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t realize how easy it was to miss someone you’d barely even met.  Though each day that passed, the ache in your chest became a little more bearable.  You couldn’t wait for this blasted war to be over so that he could come home to you. You did your best to be strong for him. You couldn’t imagine what horrors he must be facing on the front lines.

You felt his loss and broken heart when the news reported the death of one of the Howling Commandos. You realize it must have been someone he was close to.  You wished you could have been there.  To console him in his time of need.

That had been a few weeks ago.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Audrey walks out of the back room.  “Ms. Abrams is coming within the hour to pick up her dress.  Is it ready?”

You nod, gesturing to the thin white box you’d placed on the counter a few minutes earlier.  “Yes, it’s right here.”  You walk around the counter to one of the partially finished dresses on a mannequin.  “And we’re still waiting for the lace to come in so we can continue Ms. Dane’s dress. It should be here tomorrow, but…”

Your voice trails off when you feel a set of heart palpitations beginning in your chest. You’d grown used to the feel of a strong accelerated beat.  It happened a lot when your soulmate was off fighting a battle.  But this time it felt different.  Something was wrong.

Audrey looks at you in concern.  “Are you alright?”

Before you can respond, you feel a burst of cold spread across your skin, like you’ve just jumped into an ice bath.  Your legs give out and you fall to the floor.

“Y/N!” Audery rushes to your side.

Your vision swims and you can’t even manage to force any words out before everything goes black.

* * *

Steve is the first one to awaken.  It doesn’t take him long to realize that something’s wrong.  He carefully observes in his surroundings, and everything feels off. The radio is playing a ball game that’s already occurred.  The sounds of traffic seem fake to his sensitive hearing, almost as if there’s a speaker right outside the window.

Then the woman comes into the room and he  _knows_  something is off about her.

His first instinct screams that he’s been captured by Hydra, so he reacts accordingly.  Men in black tactical gear burst into the room and he throws them toward the wall, only to find that it’s a fake wall as they go crashing through.  He darts through the hole, his heart racing.

He has to get out. Who knows what the hell they’ve done to him already.  He doesn’t even  _want_  to think about what they have planned.  There are more agents out in the hall.  When they see him, they begin to give chase.  Steve runs out of the building, pushing people out of his way.

He has to get away from the danger.  He’s so focused on that, it takes him a moment to absorb his surroundings.  He comes to a stop in the center of the street, looking around in confusion.  He gets a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  His heart pounds like a drum in his chest.

“At ease, soldier.” Steve turns to face the voice, finding a dark-skinned man with a serious face and an eye patch.  The man approaches.  “Look.  I’m sorry about that little show back there, but… we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

“Break what?” Steve asks, staring the man down.

The man hesitates for a moment.  “You’ve been asleep, Cap.  For almost 70 years.”

Steve doesn’t want to believe him.  But looking around is all the proof he needs to know that this man isn’t lying.

“You gonna be okay?” The man asks after a short pause.

 _No_.  That’s what Steve wants to say.  Even with his serum enhanced mind, this was difficult to process.  70 years?  “Yeah,” Steve manages to force out.  “Yeah, I just…”  He thinks about the promise he’d made to Bucky.  The promise he’d made to himself when Bucky died.  To find you back in New York.  Take you out for that special night and sweep you off your feet.  Steve feels grief overwhelm him.  He swallows the thick lump in his throat.  “I had a date.”

* * *

It takes you a little longer to recover from the years of sleep.  It gives Fury enough time to alter his plans in informing you of your situation, not wanting a repeat of what’s already happened.

When you come to and your vision has cleared, you look around the hospital room you’ve been placed in to find a man standing near the door.  He smiles kindly when he sees that you’ve awoken.  “Ma’am, I’m glad to see you’re awake.  My name is Phil Coulson.  I’m an Agent for SHIELD.”

Your brow furrows in confusion.  You slowly push yourself up into a seated position, frowning at how sluggish your muscles feel.  “Shield?” you question, your throat feeling dry.  Your gaze washes over him.  He’s wearing a tailored suit, however the design of it seems a little strange to you. You just can’t quite put your finger on it.

Agent Coulson approaches, reaching for the pitcher of water and glass that’s been placed on the table by your bed.  He pours water into the glass and hands it to you.  “We’re an agency that protects people from… well,  _special_  cases,” he informs vaguely.

You drink from the glass, immediately feeling the relief.  “What happened?  Where am I?” you question, looking around your room once more.  There’s something about it that seems  _off_.

“You’re in a facility in New York,” he tells you.

You think back on what could have happened.  “I remember collapsing at work,” you recall.  Was that really the last thing that happened?  Why did it seem like that happened a long time ago?

Phil nods, “Yes, there was an accident with your mate.”

You look up at him in shock and concern, “Is he alright?!”

“Yes,” Phil nods once again. “But ma’am… This may come as a bit of a shock.”  He hesitates for a moment.  “Your soulmate, Steve Rogers is… Captain America.”

You stare back at him for a moment.  “Yes, I already knew that,” you admit cautiously.  You wonder briefly how  _they_  would have figured that out.  You’re not sure what they’re planning on doing with that information.

Phil looks a little shocked by your admission, but he also seems slightly relieved.  “You did?”

You nod slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, well that’s good. Less explaining, and maybe what I have to say next won’t be quite as shocking either.”

His statement doesn’t sit well with you.  There’s a dark foreboding feeling building in the bottom of your stomach.  “What else is there?” you ask, despite your head telling you to keep quiet.

“At the end of the war… Captain Rogers crashed a plane full of bombs into the arctic to prevent it from reaching the east coast and killing a whole lot of people.”  Your heart skips a beat when you hear this.  “His body was frozen over by the ice.  And  _your_  body had a similar reaction.  You went into a coma like stasis.  Your body frozen in time, rather than ice, until Captain Rogers could be found.”

He gives you a moment to let the information sink in.  It certainly takes a second, but honestly, the information isn’t as bad as you were expecting.  “Alright. I guess that is a  _little_ shocking,” you voice.

Phil seems to hesitate again.  “Ma’am… it took 67 years before Captain Rogers’ body was recovered.”


	5. Chapter 5

You release another soft sigh, looking up from the book in your lap and gazing unfocused at the wall across the room.  You’re currently sitting on the couch in the small New York apartment SHIELD had you staying in.  It’s been two weeks since you woke up, and in some ways, you still couldn’t believe what was happening.

You had been encouraged to request an escort for seeing the city outside, but you were too scared. What little you’d seen of the future was  _so_  different from what you were used to.  You didn’t know how to handle all of this.

When you asked if you could see Steve, you were told that he had been moved temporarily to a safe house out of the city.  You asked why you couldn’t be there with him.  Agent Coulson told you that the director wanted to give you both time to come to terms with what had happened on your own.  You felt like there was more to it than that, but you quickly realized that any other questions you asked would go unanswered or get redirected.

You’re startled slightly by a knock at your door.

Getting up, you look through the peep hole to see who it is.  It’s Agent Coulson.

“Ma’am,” he greets you with a nod.  “I’ve been tasked with escorting you from the city.”

You look at him in confusion.  “What? Why?”

“There’s been an incident.”

You slowly open the door further, allowing him entrance into the apartment.  “What happened?”

He gives you a small smile. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Will I get to be with Steve?” you ask, shutting the door and crossing your arms unsurely over your chest.

Phil shakes his head, “Captain Rogers is getting put on assignment.”

You look at him in shock. “What?!  He’s only been here two weeks.  He’s not ready for an assignment.”

“I know you must be worried about him, but he was given the choice and he accepted.”

You sigh, lowering your gaze.  “Can I at least see him first?”

“We can’t afford to have him be distracted,” Coulson tells you.

“Distracted?” you ask, looking at him and feeling mildly insulted.  “Why would he be distracted?  Does he even know about me?  Know that you have me?”

Phil avoids your accusing gaze.  “Captain Rogers has not been informed of your situation.”

Your eyes widen, completely thrown by this revelation.  “Why?! Why are you keeping us separated? Don’t you think we’ve been through enough?!”

“It’s for your own protection,” Phil insists.  “If word were to get out about you, you’d become a target.  And you can’t defend yourself like he can.  If anyone gets to you, they can destroy him.  Is that what you want?”

You take a step back, his words hitting you as if he’d actually stuck you.  You’d never thought of yourself as a  _liability_  to your soulmate.  That’s not how it was supposed to work.  You were supposed to make each other stronger.  But then again, not everyone was mated to the greatest soldier in history.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. But that’s the truth.  We need to keep you safe, so we can keep  _him_  safe.  So please, pack a bag.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.  You want to cry, though you’re not sure if it’s from sadness or frustration. Probably both.  You fight the urge to succumb to your emotions and turn to do as you’ve been told.  There’s not much to pack, a few days’ worth of clothes, a couple of books for reading, a sketch book and some pencils.  Sketching had become the only familiar thing to you, and with you not leaving your apartment much, it helped to pass the time too.

You meet back with Agent Coulson.

He sighs quietly.  “I don’t mean to sound harsh.  But the director was charged with your safety by one of the previous directors of SHIELD.  There aren’t many people that know about you.  And it’s safer for you,  _and for Steve_ , if it stays that way.”

You keep your gaze downcast, nodding solemnly.  “I understand.”

You follow him out to his car before he takes you to the airport.  There’s a separate section that’s designated for SHIELD aircraft and he’s able to pull his car right up to the jets.  Coulson guides you to one of them.  “This one’s for you,” he gestures toward the jet.

The back ramp is lowered, so you start for it.  You pause when you notice he isn’t following.  “You’re not coming with me?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m needed elsewhere.”

You notice the way he seems to be avoiding your gaze.  “You’re going where Steve is going,” you surmise.

Coulson is quiet for a long moment.  “Yes, ma’am,” he confirms quietly.

You feel that lump forming in your throat again.  You release a shaky breath, your heart aching.  “Please, keep him safe,” you whisper emotionally.

Phil slowly lifts his gaze back up to meet yours.  “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

You breathe a harsh breath and nod before turning to the jet and stepping onto the ramp.  Two agents greet you, the pilot and co-pilot.  One takes your bag to get it secured and then directs you to your seat while the other prepares for takeoff.

You spend the entire flight lost to your thoughts.  Coming to terms with everything was already such a daunting task, and you had been hoping to get through all of this  _with_  Steve.  But now that was looking more and more impossible.

* * *

As for Steve, thoughts of you are never far from his mind.  He doesn’t know what’s happened to you after all these years.  He knows that as long as his heart is still beating, yours must be too.  But what happened while he was buried in the ice?  Did you live your life without him?  Grow old and have children with a man that wasn’t him?

His heart aches in his chest as the SHIELD vehicle that picked him up from his apartment arrives at the airport.  He steps out of the car in time to watch one of the Quinjets take off.  His eyes follow the movement of the jet as it streaks through the air, an unknown feeling of longing building deep in his chest.

“Captain Rogers,” Steve’s attention is drawn to the man standing in front of a second jet.  Steve makes his way over, shaking the man’s hand in greeting.  “I’m Agent Phil Coulson.  I’ll be your escort for the day.”

Steve nods, glancing up to the sky, once more.  The previous jet has moved out of view, so with a small sigh, Steve boards the jet in front of him.

Coulson watches with a small frown.  As an Agent for SHIELD, he’s had to keep a lot of secrets.  But none seemed to weigh so heavily upon his shoulders as this one.

* * *

“Ma’am?  Prepare for landing,” The co-pilot calls to you.

Looking up from your book, you nod and close it, your hands curling around the edge of the spine as it rests in your lap.  The jet rocks slightly as the landing gear hits the ground.  The two agents run through the post-flight check, the hum of the engines slowly fading as the propellers whirl to a stop.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and stand as one of the agents moves to get your bag for you.  The back ramp opens and you follow the two when they step out.

“Welcome to the Retreat, Ma’am.”

Stepping around the jet, your eyes land on a rustic camping lodge, built on the edge of a small lake. The agents take you inside and briefly show you around before they depart.  They brought with them enough supplies to last you about a month, but they assure you that you shouldn’t be here that long.

Before you know it, you’re back to being alone with your books and your thoughts.  You walk around the open space, everything smells mostly of pine wood.  Grabbing your bag, you figure the best thing to do was to start putting your things away. You were probably going to be here a while.

You move into the bedroom, pausing when a new scent hits you.  It’s musky, but clean… possibly coming from a man?  Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and immediately, a picture of Steve fills your mind.  Your eyes blink open and you look around the room.

You recall that Coulson had told you Steve was being kept out of the city.  You wonder if this is where they had brought him.  Setting your bag on the foot of the bed, you begin to open the dresser drawers and put your items of clothing away.  With Steve’s scent filling your hazy mind, you daydream about the day the two of you might meet again.

By the next day, you’ve finished your book, and you know that if you start your next one so soon, you’ll quickly run out of ways to occupy your time.  So you try to figure out what else you can possibly do.  You eye the television set warily.  You know that you need to start adjusting to modern technology and there is no time like the present.

You’d had a  _very_  quick debriefing on how to use the television set when you were moved into your apartment.  You hadn’t ever owned one before.  They were expensive and there wasn’t much to watch anyways back in the 40’s.  That’s why you would go to the movie theater, instead.

But it would seem that most information was transmitted through television, nowadays.

You pick up the remote, releasing a long breath when you see the multitude of buttons dotting the surface. Finding the power button is easy enough, but that’s about as far as the simplicity extends.  You remember being told that there was a guide of some sort for the channels.

You try pressing the menu button, only to find that the menu is directing you to change settings for the television.  “Well, that’s not right,” you mutter to yourself.  You try pressing the menu button again, hoping to get it to go away. That only seems to get you deeper into the menu.  “Goodness gracious,” you sigh, reading over each individual button on the remote. You find the one marked EXIT and press that, breathing a sigh of relief when the menu disappears.

You eventually find the GUIDE button and are then able to navigate the channels.  You settle for a news station, figuring that this would be the best way to start getting outside knowledge of what’s happened to the world over the last 70 years.

“A terrorist attack was stopped in Stuttgart, Germany last night, by Ironman and a man that appeared to be Captain America.”

That grabs your attention.

The news station plays blurry footage of Captain America fighting against some unknown opponent. You can’t make out much from the other person, just that they seem to be wearing a helmet with… horns on it?  However, there’s no mistaking that that’s Steve. They’ve given him a new uniform, but he still has his shield.

A flash of red and gold soon appears.  It looks like some kind of human shaped robot.  You realize that this must be  _Ironman_.  The assailant quickly surrenders and the video ends.

“Captain America was announced as  _missing in action_  toward the end of World War II.  It is unclear who this new person is or why they seem to have taken on this persona. There also has not been any information released on the attack.  We will keep you posted as we learn more.”

You can’t help but feel the worry beginning to build up in you again.  To have Steve jumping so soon back into battle when he still hasn’t had time to adjust…  It just didn’t sit right with you.

You keep the news station running in the back ground, keeping an eye out for more information on Steve.

The next day you’re watching the television in horror as New York is attacked by an alien army.  You realize that this is why you were moved out of New York.  But it makes your stomach tighten in knots to know that Steve is in the middle of all of that.

You occasionally get glimpses of him fighting the alien creatures.  Most of the footage is of the destruction of the city.  Many of the news stations are still trying to come to terms with the fact that there is now definitive proof that life exists off earth.

Honestly, you were still coming to those terms, too.  The future certainly has no shortage of surprises.

* * *

Steve watches Thor and Loki disappear from his sight as they use the Tesseract to get back to Asgard. Everyone takes a moment to release the breaths they’ve been holding, because now their main threat has finally left Earth.

“Hey, Steve?” Tony calls nodding his head over to his convertible.  He reaches for something on the seat as Steve approaches.  “Remember that decryption program I ran on the SHIELD files?”

Steve’s brows furrow before he nods, “Yeah.”

Tony hands Steve a large envelope.  “Got another hit that might interest you.”

Steve eyes the envelope curiously, lifting the top tab to see that there are several papers inside. “What is it?”

Tony shrugs, stepping back toward his car.  “Read it and find out.”

“Okay.”  Steve nods once more, reaching his hand out to shake Tony’s hand in parting.  He places the envelope in the compartment beneath his seat before he mounts his motorcycle and takes off.  He follows Clint and Nat’s SHIELD vehicle back to the airport.  The apartment he’d been assigned to was hit during the attack, so Fury had offered Steve a place at SHIELD.

Fighting and serving was really the only thing about the future that was familiar to Steve, so he agreed.

It’s not until the Quinjet is up in the air and Steve has settled into his seat that he opens the envelope.

He reads the title on the front page.   _The Sleeping Beauty Project_.  When he turns to the next page, his heart stops.

It’s a picture of you.

You’re sleeping on a medical bed, surrounded by all sorts of equipment.  Steve turns to the next page, looking for information on what could have happened to you.  He reads quickly, learning about how you’d lost consciousness at work and when you failed to awaken or age, even after years had passed, your case was brought to the newly founded SHIELD’s attention.

Steve reads through all the information that’s there, frowning when there doesn’t seem to be anything about when or if you’ve woken up or where you were now.  Steve flips through the pages again, looking back into the envelope in case he missed one when pulling the pages out.

Confusion melts into frustration and soon turns into anger.  Because if you were awake, that meant you were facing all of this on your own.  And he had his serum enhanced mind to cope with things a little faster, but you didn’t.

As soon as the jet has landed on the helicarrier, Steve is storming straight to the bridge.

He bursts through the doors and heads for Nick’s station, not bothering to wait for permission.  “Where is she?” he asks.

Nick’s gaze washes over the angry soldier, before his eye lands on the papers clutched in Steve’s hands. He finishes barking his orders to the crew.  “Coordinate as much of the clean-up efforts as you can.  And for God’s sake, someone get Stark out of my system.”  He turns back to Steve, holding his hands up in an effort to appease the soldier.  “She’s safe. We got her out of New York before anything happened.”  He begins to walk, gesturing for Steve to follow him to discuss this somewhere private.

“But she’s awake?” Steve asks.

Fury nods, “She woke up a few hours after you did.  I had Coulson help with her transition.”  He pushes open the door to his office, allowing Steve to enter before following. “She hasn’t been able to adjust as easily as you have,” he admits.

Steve frowns, crossing his arms over his chest.  “You think this is easy for me?”  He scoffs, “I can assure you that it’s not.  But during the war, I grew accustomed to seeing things out of the ordinary and having to adjust.  She was a civilian.  Still  _is_.  You can’t expect someone like that to just be  _okay_  with what’s happened.  Why didn’t you let me see her?”

Nick releases a small sigh, “My highest priority was keeping the two of you safe.  She is your greatest weakness, Steve.”

“And that justifies keeping us separated?  What did you even tell her about why this has happened to her?  Did you even bother telling her about me?”

“She already knew that you were her soulmate.  So we told her what happened to you at the end of the war.  She knows everything.”

Steve frowns even more. “Alright.  So I’m going to ask you again.  Where is she?”

“She’s at the Retreat.”

Steve uncrosses his arms and sets his hands on his hips.  “I want a Quinjet to take me there.”

Nick nods slowly, “I can have one ready in an hour.”

“No.  Now,” Steve orders, walking out of the room to gather his things.


	6. Chapter 6

You’re in the middle of a new sketch when you hear the knock on the door.  You wonder briefly if it’s a SHIELD agent that’s come to take you back now that the fighting is over.  Releasing a soft sigh, you set your sketchbook down on the coffee table and stand up from your spot on the couch.  You raise your arms up to stretch out your kinks, releasing a tiny yawn.  You then make your way to the door.

The man standing on the other side is most definitely  _not_  a SHIELD agent.

Your breath catches in your lungs when your eyes meet with his.  The gentle blue hue sucks you in, completely blocking everything else out. Just like the first time your eyes met.

“Steve…” his name departs from your lips in a breathless whisper.

His gaze softens, a smile gracing his lips.  “Hi,” he responds, just as breathless.

Your eyes wash over him. His whole body seems to fill the doorway.  He looks bigger than you remember.  Your hand clenches around the door knob as an effort to stay grounded when your eyes meet again.  “You…” You take in a breath, looking him over again.  “I feel like I’ve had this dream so many times.  Are you real?”

Steve releases a huffed laugh, his eyes admiring you in a similar fashion.  “You tell me.”

You hesitantly raise your hand up before reaching out for him.  You feel your breath hitch when the tips of your fingers brush against the buttons of his shirt.  Definitely real.  Your hand presses forward a little more until your palm is flush against his chest.  His thunderous heartbeat dances beneath your fingers, a perfect match to the dance of the heart in your chest.

A choked laugh escapes your throat, the emotions quickly building up inside you.  You were beginning to fear that you were never going to be allowed to see him again.  But now he was  _here_ ; standing in front of you, looking at you so tenderly and sweetly, that all you wanted to do was cry.  “Steve!” you sob, losing the battle with your tears.

In the next moment, your cheek is pressed to the fabric of his shirt, his arms curling around your body and holding you close.  Your hands slide beneath his leather jacket to grip tightly at his shirt at the center of his back.  His chin rests against the top of your head, the sweet scent of your shampoo filling his lungs with each breath.  “Y/N, I’m  _so_  sorry.”  His chest aches with every shudder he feels coming from your body. “This is all my fault.”

You shake your head quickly, forehead still pressed to his chest.  “No, Steve.  I don’t blame you.  You couldn’t possibly have known that this was going to happen.”  You sniffle quietly, slowly lifting your head to gaze back up at him.

He unwraps his hands from around your body so he can cradle your face in his palms.  His thumbs gently wipe away the wetness of your tears. “I’m still sorry.  You didn’t have any warning or any way to prepare for this. It came out of nowhere for you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

You sigh quietly, nuzzling your cheeks against his palm before looking back up at him.  “It has been a lot to adjust to,” you admit. “But the worst part was being alone.”

A crease develops between Steve’s brow as he looks at you in pain and sadness.  “Y/N, if I had known that SHIELD had you…  I would have been with you in-  Well, in a heartbeat.”  The corner of his mouth lifts slightly at his joke.

You find your mouth lifting a little to match his.  One of your hands releases the back of his shirt, so you can reach up and brush your fingers over the back of his hand.  “Well, you’re here now.”

He nods, “I am.”

You revel in his closeness for another moment before you step back, missing the warmth of his hands almost instantly as they fall away from your cheeks.  “I saw on the news what happened in New York.  Are you okay?” you ask in concern, stepping back from the door, to let him inside.

He bends down to grab a duffle bag that had been resting at his feet, before he steps through. “Yeah.  A couple of scratches and some bruises, but nothing too severe.  My body heals quickly.”

You watch as he moves to set the duffle against the back of the couch.  “Are we staying here longer?” you ask, eyeing the bag.

Steve follows your line of sight.  “I thought that maybe we should take the time to get to know one another, without the distractions of everything else,” Steve explains.  Fearing he may have errored in his thoughts, he quickly adds, “But if you’d rather head back to SHIELD, I can arrange for a pick up.”

You shake your head, “No, that… that actually sounds nice.”  You give him a reassuring smile, warmth spreading in your chest when you feel his heart skip a beat.

His cheeks flush endearingly when he realizes that you would have felt the skip, too.  He scratches at the back of his neck, turning a little shy. “Maybe we should take a seat on the couch?  There’s quite a bit that we need to talk about,” he suggests.

“Sure,” you nod, moving around the front of the couch.  Your body seems to be hyper aware of him following you.  You sit first, curling your legs under your body.  You watch as he lowers himself down, a little awed at how he can move his massive body so flawlessly.  “You weren’t always this big, were you?” you find yourself asking.

Steve glances down at his body, remembering a time when he was only half this size.  “No, I used to be a lot smaller.”

Your brow furrows and you head tilts slightly in curiosity.  “I remember you used to get sick a lot, too.”

Steve looks at you in surprise.  “You could tell?”

You nod.  “You’d get heart palpitations.”

Steve remembers those times too.  He’d get coughing fits so bad it felt like his lungs were going to fly out of his chest and his heart was going to burst.  “Did it ever affect you?” he asked.

You shrug a shoulder, “Sometimes.  More so when I was younger.  I’m sure it was never as bad as what you were going through, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes, feeling guilty that his ailments used to hurt you, too.

You give him a soft smile, “It wasn’t your fault.  I learned how to deal with it.  Hoped that the strength of my heart would help to calm yours down.  And then one day, it all stopped.  My heartbeat grew strong.  And it’s been strong ever since.”

Steve glances across the room, a far off look in his eyes.  “I was a part of a government experiment.  They planned on creating a series of super soldiers to win the war. I was supposed to be the first. They injected me with a serum to enhance my body’s cells.  Then they put me in this machine.  I remember the light being so bright, I could see it even when I closed my eyes.  And then my body began to grow.  It was like I was being stretched in every direction.”

You frown, eyeing him with concern.  “That sounds painful.”

His gaze moves to look at you, his chest warming when he sees how worried you are over him.  He gives you a reassuring smile.  “It was, but when I came out…  I looked like this and I knew I’d never have to worry about getting sick again.  Or about making  _you_  sick.”

“Was that the day you crashed into the bridal shop?” you ask, putting the pieces together.

Steve smiles in embarrassment, he remembers that they’d reported his first day in the newspapers “Uh, yeah…  I hadn’t grown used to how big I’d become just yet.  I tried to turn around the corner and it didn’t exactly work like I had expected it to.”

You smile knowingly. “So that’s why you smashed through the window,” you laugh a little.  “You know you almost gave Audrey a heart attack.”

Steve gives you a confused look, “Audrey?”

“The owner of the shop,” you explain.  “And my boss.”

Steve’s brows shoot up in surprise.  “You worked there?”

You nod, “I was there that day.  I’d just walked out of the back room when you flew in.”  You laugh a little to yourself as you remember the events of that day. “I even tried going after you, but you were so fast.”

“I had no idea,” he states in wonder.  He never knew you’d been so close to him the whole time.  He doesn’t even know how many times he and Bucky used to walk passed that bridal shop.  “So, what did you do for the shop?  Were you a designer?”

“Goodness, no,” you shake your head with a smile.  “Most of the designs were Audrey’s.  I was just a seamstress.  Though with Audrey’s guidance I was beginning to learn how to make some of my own designs, before…” your voice falls away, not really knowing how to say  _before I woke up in the future_.

Steve seems to understand just fine, his eyes showing his empathy.  “I see.”

A short silence falls between you both as you try to figure out how to get around the subject that both of you wish to avoid.

“Can I ask you something?” you speak up first.

Steve nods quickly, “Yes, of course.”

You pin him with a curious look.  “Who designed your uniform?  The one from back then.”

Steve’s lips split into a small grin.  “You did.” His smile only grows when he sees the shock on your face.

“You-”  Your mind goes blank for a moment  as you attempt to recover from your shock.  You’d already known the answer, at least you’d been pretty sure, but to get a confirmation… “So, that  _was_  you who came to my apartment that day.  The day I lost my sketch.”

Steve chuckles in embarrassment again.  “Yeah, I wanted to see you one last time before I went overseas.”

Your cheeks flush.  “You remembered me from the meet and greet?”

Steve’s sky blue gaze seems to pierce straight through you.  “How could I forget?  You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Your face burns even more and you can’t seem to meet his gaze.

Steve dips his head down, trying to catch your eyes again, smiling at you sweetly.  “It’s true.”

You push some of your hair back behind your ear, smiling shyly back.  “How did you find me?”

“I got your mailing address from the photographer address book.  But when I went to your apartment, I didn’t know men weren’t allowed inside. I’d been arguing with the woman at the desk when you ran behind me.  I went to chase after you and as you were getting into the taxi, your design fell out of your notebook.”

“So, you used it to make your uniform.”

He nods, “That’s why I thought you were a designer.  You’d put so much detail into it.  Just looking at the sketch, I could completely envision the full design.  And besides, knowing that you created it… It helped me feel closer to you.”

Your gaze softens as you look up at him.  “The first time I saw you in the newspaper, wearing that uniform… I knew.  I knew what you were to me.”  Your hand reaches up to cradle his cheek.

Steve leans into your touch, relishing in the way it ignites the blood in his veins.  Being around someone had never felt so  _right_.  “I’m sorry I made you wait for me.  I wanted to come home to you as a hero.  You don’t deserve any less.”

“Oh Steve,” you shake your head slightly.  “I would have been happy as long as you  _came home_.”  Leaning forward, you wrap your arms round his neck, pulling him in close.

His arms wrap around you as he buries his face into your hair.  “I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly.  “I’m  _so_  sorry I did this to you. And I know it’s hard, and different and terrifying…  But I  _promise_  I won’t let you go through this alone. We’re together now and nothing is going to change that.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face into his neck, breathing in his scent and letting his words wash over you.  You’ve never felt more complete than you did at this exact moment, wrapped in your soulmate’s arms.  The last few days have certainly been trying, but finally being reunited with Steve made it all worth it.

Being with him made you feel like anything was possible.  You knew that you’d get through this.  As long as he was by your side.


	7. Chapter 7

You and Steve spend a couple days at the Retreat.  You talk, learning as much as you can about each other.  You take walks around the lake, sharing quick glances and demure smiles. Steve begins to teach you about the new technologies this world has to offer, showing you how to use the computer on the desk in the corner of the cabin.

You’re currently curled up in the desk chair, reading through some of the current event news stories. Most of them are still covering what happened in New York a few days ago.  Steve is pacing in the kitchen, talking on his SHIELD designated cellphone to Director Fury.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you, Director.”  Steve finishes up the call, hitting the end button on the touch screen and watching as the phone goes dark.  He releases a soft sigh.

“Is it time to go back?” you ask, observing him over the computer monitor.

He meets your gaze, holding it for a moment before he nods.  “It sounds like they’re assigning me to the SHIELD headquarters in Washington DC.” Steve sets the phone down on the counter and then makes his way over to you.

You follow his movement with your eyes, your head tilting back once he’s standing before you.  “Did he say what’s to happen with me?”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and leans his hip again the desk.  He shakes his head, “He said it was up to you.”

You drop your gaze, staring unfocused at the computer screen.  “And what if I don’t know?”

Steve is silent for a moment.  “You could come with me…?” he suggests, a little unsure whether the offer is too forward.

You look back up at him. “To Washington?”

He shrugs, “If you’d like.” He desperately tries to down play the idea, despite the fact that it’s sounding more and more appealing to him with each passing moment.  This is a big decision and he doesn’t want his desires to influence your choice.

“Well…” you start, your mind still trying to think everything over.  “I guess, it’s not like there’s anywhere else for me to go.  New York…  That  _used_  to be by home.  But now it seems like home has become more of a time period than a place.”  Looking up into Steve’s eyes, you realize that maybe that isn’t quite true either. Spending these last few days with Steve,  _that_ felt more at home to you than you’ve ever felt in your whole life.  “Washington DC, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, waiting in anticipation for your answer.

“Okay,” you finally decide. “New life, new start, right?”

Steve grins broadly, sighing in relief.  “Yeah.”

“Though,” you scoff out a short laugh.  “I still don’t really know what to do with myself once I get there.  You’ll be off at SHIELD every day.”

“I have an idea,” Steve comments.  “Well, for short term, at least.”

“Oh?” you ask curiously.

He raises a shoulder in a slight shrug, “I guess it’s also kind of a favor…”

Your lips grow into a small smile.  “What is it, Steve?”

He scratches at a spot behind his ear, looking a little embarrassed.  “The new uniform… The one they gave me,” he clarifies.  “I’m not exactly a fan…?”  He feels a little bad for admitting it, but he knows he can be truthful with you without the fear of judgment.  “And I really like your designs, so… I was wondering if.  You know…”

“If I would design you a new one?” you coax, your eyes softening when he finally lifts his gaze back to yours.

“Yeah,” he confirms.  “I mean, at least it’s something familiar to you. But it also helps to get you back out in the world.”

You nod along to his words, slowly lifting yourself out of the desk chair.  “Okay, I think I can manage that.”  You step up to him, giving him a small, trusting smile.  “When do we leave?”

* * *

Over the next few days, SHIELD makes the preparations for your arrival in Washington DC.  The two of you are given separate apartments.  You’re both living in the same building, but your apartment is on the floor below Steve’s.

The two of you meet with Director Fury.  He explains that there isn’t really much he can do to keep the two of you separated, but he advises against you both going public with your relationship.  After the events of New York, Captain America had become a worldwide sensation, especially after it was reported that he was the  _real_  Captain America.  If anyone were to find out that you were his greatest weakness, it would put both of you at high risk.

You agree, if a little reluctantly.

As part of your protection, you’re given a new identity.  You keep your name, but they forge your birth certificate and driver’s license.  You’re instructed to not tell anyone what happened to you.  If people find out you’re from the 40’s it’ll be too easy to link you back to Steve.

Steve somehow manages to convince Fury to take you on as a civilian employee, so you can work on designing his suit.  You were going to need access to the latest technology in military wear.  And there was no better place to do that than SHIELD.

Furry agrees, but only after you agree to take some basic self-defense training.

The two of you are then given a week to settle into your new life.

You move out of the kitchen when you hear a knock at your door.  You feel the smile grow on your lips when Steve’s sparkling blues greet you from the other side.  “Hey!”

He grins back.  “Hey.  I was going to step out to do some exploring.  Was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

You’re about to nod in agreement when Fury’s words come to mind and you hesitate.  “I thought we weren’t supposed to be seen together…” you frown.

“At  _SHIELD_.  I’m sure no one’s going to look twice at a guy out on a stroll through the city with his girl.”  He leans against your door frame, giving you a reassuring smile.

You couldn’t stop the skip of your heart even if you wanted to.   _His girl_.  It sounded good coming from his mouth.  “Okay,” you take a step back, pulling the door open further.  “Just give me a minute to get ready.”

Steve follows you in, making sure the door shuts as you walk back to your bedroom.  He looks around your apartment.  It looks a lot like his, furnished but nothing in the way of personal effects.  He hopes that with time, that will change.

You soon walk back out, dressed and ready for a day out in the city.  Steve offers you his arm, which you take graciously, before the two of you step out into the hall of the apartment complex.  You quickly lock up and then you’re both on your way.

It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining and there’s a light breeze to keep from getting too hot.  The streets are a lot more open here than they had been in New York.  It made it seem less crowded.  It was a little difficult to keep from staring that the cars that drove passed or were parked on the street.  They looked so different now.

But when you weren’t looking at cars, you were analyzing people’s fashion styles.  That reaction had been ingrained in you over the last few years.  Working at the shop, it was important to assess a person’s style to determine what kind of wedding dress they might like.  You could tell a lot about a person based on what clothes they chose to wear.

But looking at the current fashion style, you felt way over your head.  Hardly any of the women wore dresses any more.  Occasionally you’d see one in a skirt, but they were always scandalously short.

“Y/N, you’re staring,” you hear Steve’s voice whispering in your ear.

You blink and tear your gaze away from the group of young girls walking across the street.  They’re all giggling with care free smiles as they walk together, shopping bags in their hands.

You look up at Steve, giving him an incredulous look.  “Do you  _see_  what they’re wearing?  They may as well be wearing nothing at all!”

Steve’s lip twitches upward as he tries to fight a laugh.  “It’s strange, I know.  But it’s how things are now.  It’ll take some getting used to.”

You find yourself glancing at them again, a frown on your lips.  “I can’t even imagine myself wearing a skirt so short.  It’s indecent.”

Steve swallows hard and doesn’t comment.  Because suddenly he  _is_  picturing you in a skirt that short.  And it’s stirring up all sorts of  _indecent_  thoughts.  He clears his throat and gives you a gentle tug to keep moving.

Something else you notice is how different the hair styles have become.  Men tend to wear their hair shorter.  The women, for the most part, seem to have simpler styles, either braided or tied back.  You no longer see the brushed-out curls look from your time.

You push a strand of your own hair back behind your ear.  You hadn’t done much with it this morning, and honestly, that probably helped more with blending in than if you  _had_  done something.  But the cut of your hair was still different from everyone else’s.

After walking a few more blocks, your eyes land on a hair salon.  You bite your bottom lip in contemplation before deciding to grab Steve’s attention.  “Steve, do you mind if we go in?” you ask, gesturing to the building.

Steve glances at it before looking down at you in slight confusion.  “The salon?”

You nod tentatively, playing with another strand of your hair.  “Blending into modern times might be a little easier if I didn’t  _look_  like I’ve walked straight out of 1945.”

“Alright,” Steve agrees, his gaze flickering over your features.

You both make your way to the salon, stepping through the open door.  A woman is standing behind the desk near the door and she greets you both with a wide smile.  “Hello! Here for a haircut?”

You give her a small smile. “Yes.”

“Did you have an appointment?” she asks, glancing at her computer screen.

Your smile falls, “Oh. Um… no, I don’t.”

She smiles at you reassuringly, “That’s alright.  A few of our stylists will be available shortly.  Were the both of you looking to get your hair cut?” she asks, gesturing between you and Steve.

Steve looks a little caught off guard.  He glances down at you.  You give him a small shrug, signifying to him that it’s his choice.  “Yeah,” he finally responds, holding your gazes for another moment, before looking back at the woman.  “If you can fit both of us in.”

She nods, continuing to look at the screen.  “Of course! That’s no problem at all.  Feel free to take a seat, someone will be with you in a moment.”

You and Steve move to the small waiting area off to the side.  There’s a coffee table filled with hair styling books and magazines.  After you’ve taken your seat, you pick one up and begin to flip through it for ideas.  Steve does the same.

You can’t believe how many different styles there are to choose from.  Long hair, short hair,  _extremely_  short hair.  Styles you never would have dreamed of seeing on someone.  And though, they seemed strange at first, the more you flipped through the pictures, the more you began to like some of the styles.

You glance over, to see what Steve might be looking at.  “I like that one for you,” you comment, pointing at a picture.  The model has short hair on the sides but gradually becomes longer toward the top.  And he’s using some type of styling gel to give the top strands some lift.

“Yeah?” Steve questions, glancing between you and the picture.

You laugh lightly, looking up at him.  “Yeah.”

“Okay, who’s next?” One of the stylists approaches you both with a beaming smile.

“Steve, go ahead, I’m still deciding,” you tell him.

He nods, “Alright.  I’ll see you when you’re done.”

You smile encouragingly, watching as he stands.  He shows the picture in his magazine to the stylist.  “Can you do something like this?” he asks.

“Sure can!  Let’s head over to a chair and get you set up!”

You turn back to your own magazine, flipping through a few more pages.  By the time one of the other stylists is available, you’ve got a pretty good idea for what you want.  The woman is nice and friendly.  She talks with you a bit about what you’re thinking of doing with your hair.  When the scissors come out, she tries to keep the conversation going.

You do what you can to respond, trying not to make it obvious how out of place you still are to this time period.  You tell her that you’re new to DC and that you grew up in Brooklyn.  She gives you a couple pointers on the things to do in the area, places to eat and such.

You watch her work through the mirror as piece by piece of your 1940’s hair falls to the floor.  It’s a little strange to you, but you know that this is the next step in accepting your new life.

Before you know it, your stylist it putting the final touches on your brand-new haircut.

“What do you think?” she asks, taking a step back.

You run a hand through the shortened strands, turning your head from side to side as you observe the mirror.  “It’s great, thank you!” you tell her sincerely.

Standing from your chair, you turn to move back out to the front.  Steve, with his own fresh hair style, is back in one of the waiting area chairs, flipping through a different magazine.  He looks up as you approach.

“How do I look?” you ask with a timid smile.

His lips tilt into a crooked grin, eyes shining in warmth.  “Amazing,” he breathes.

Your cheeks heat up, heart skipping a beat in your chest.  “You look pretty amazing yourself.”

Steve’s heart responds to yours with another skip.  Leaning forward, he sets down the magazine before he stands and takes your hand in his.  “Ready to go?”

“Don’t we have to pay?” you ask, glancing toward the now empty front desk.

“I already took care of it,” Steve informs you.

“Oh.  Thank you.”

Keeping your hand in his, Steve pulls you back out onto the sidewalk.  “It was no trouble.  But I think I’ve seen enough for today.  Want to head back home?”

You nod in agreement. “Sounds good to me.”


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of your week seems to fly by and before you know it, you’re walking into the Triskelion Monday morning.  You’re given a badge that acts as your access card.  You’re instructed to keep it on you at all times as it will allow and prohibit you from going to certain parts of the building.  You’re then taken to a small office space on the second floor.

It’s there that you’re greeted with one of SHIELD’s uniform specialists.  His name is Max and though he’s very polite, you can tell he’s curious as to why SHIELD would hire a civilian to create a uniform of such high importance as Captain America’s.

He gives you several different uniform samples, so you can get a feel for the materials used and the construction of the designs.  He tells you that he’s available if you have any questions, but other than that you have free range over the project.  You thank him before you’re left to your own devices.

Your office has a large table in the center of the room for tracing out the patterns on the fabric and cutting them out.  There’s a sewing station in one corner and a computer desk in another.  Pulling one of the uniforms off of the rolling rack, you set it down on the table.  You examine the strength and sturdiness of the fabric, noting that the layers are thicker over the chest and torso to protect the body, and thinner along the joints to allow flexibility for movement.

After checking the label to see what materials were used, you move to the computer to research them. Kevlar and Nomex did not exist back in the 40’s, so you had no idea what they even were.  You thank Steve under your breath for teaching you how to use a computer, because at least it means you won’t be  _completely_  lost.

You find a notebook and some pens in a drawer under the desk and use them to take notes on the information you find online.  You’re a little surprised by how far the technology behind fabrics have reached in such a short time span.  Fabrics that can stop bullets and protect from fire?  It was incredible.

* * *

You spend your entire day researching the limitations and benefits of the fabrics and find a couple of other new fabrics along the way.  You’re so caught up in your research that before you know it, the day is over.

The week passes by in a similar manner.  You spend most of it on the computer researching different types of uniforms, patterns and fabrics.  You even start on a few sketches.  You don’t see Steve, but he’s never too far from your thoughts.  Based on your accelerated heartrate throughout the day, you’re pretty sure that he’s spending his time training.

It’s just after lunch on Friday when there’s a knock on your door.  You call for the person to enter, turning in your desk chair to greet them. “Steve!” you give him a wide smile, pushing out of your chair as he steps through the door.

“Hey,” he smiles back, closing the door behind him and moving toward you.

You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t seen each other in several days, or if it’s because of his training, but he seems bigger, somehow.  It might also be how tight his shirt is on him.  You recognize the logo in the center of his chest from your research earlier in the week.  It’s an Under Armour shirt.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, gazing up at him curiously.

“I wanted to check on you. To make sure you were settling in alright.”  He glances around your office before his eyes move back on you.

You smile reassuringly, “I’m doing great.  Everyone’s been friendly and I’m doing my best to blend in.”

Steve nods, looking a little relieved, “Good.”

“How’s everything going with you?”

Steve releases a small sigh, quirking his head to the side a little.  “A  _lot_  of training.  Endurance in the morning, then strength.  Combat training after lunch and tactical training in the afternoon.”

You raise your brows in astonishment.  “Sounds busy.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods in agreement.  “During the war, the basic training I received was back before the serum and I could barely do any of it.  After the serum, I pretty much relied on my strength and my shield, I had no technique. I never even knew that there were so many ways just to punch someone,” he chuckles.

You give him an amused smile.  “Oh!” you start.  “While you’re here, I should get your measurements,” you turn to get your notebook then you go to your sewing station to find a tape measure.  “It’ll still be a while before I get to that stage, but considering how busy you’ve been, we may as well do this now.  That is, if you have enough time…” you pause in your search for a tape measure to glance back at him.

Steve blinks, a little thrown from how fast you were talking.  “Um, sure.  I have some time.”

“Good,” you smile sweetly, turning back to your search.  “Ah, there you are,” you mutter, finding the tape tucked under a pair of scissors. You gesture for Steve to join you next to the table so you can have your notebook nearby but have both hands available for measuring.  “This should only take a minute,” you tell Steve.  Your hands reach up, arms nearly encircling his neck as you pass the cloth tape between your hands to begin your measurements.

Steve barely hears your comment, because he’s suddenly been assaulted by your perfume.  And it smells like heaven.  Like Brooklyn in the 1940s.  Like the night he first met you when you walked up to take a picture with him and your friends.

Your hands join together at the base of his throat, the tape wrapped around his neck.  You’re very gentle about it and you don’t keep the tape wrapped for long, but Steve is already finding it difficult to breathe, because every whiff of your scent adds fuel to the flickering flame that’s begun to grow deep in his belly.

He doesn’t know how you managed to get such an intoxicating scent.  You must have done some more shopping without him the week you both had off.

You measure out the length of his shoulders next.  Steve wants to fidget, to shift from foot to foot, but he refrains.  He’s not used to this.  Tailored suits were expensive, even in the 40’s.  Most of his clothes had been bought at second hand stores or were things that Bucky had grown out of.  His clothes had never really fit him right, but he’d never had anyone to impress, so he hadn’t cared.

Steve recalls doing this once for the suit that Howard made, but the tailor that had done the measurements was a man, and Steve certainly hadn’t been attracted to him.

“Lift your arms a little,” you request.

Steve almost doesn’t catch it, he’s too focused on trying not to embarrass himself.  With his elbows bent out, you have enough room to work the tape around his back to measure the circumference of his chest. Your hands meet in front of his sternum, reading the tape.  “Inhale,” you command, wanting to account for the expansion of his lungs.

Steve does so, and immediately regrets it.  Your scent fills every single inch of his being, and his body is beginning to react.  It only gets worse when after you’ve finished measuring out his torso, you drop to your knees.

Steve clenches his jaw and swallows thickly.  The sweatpants he wore for training today are loose enough to hide  _some_  of the stirring that’s beginning to happen underneath, but he doesn’t know how long that will last.

Luckily, you seem perfectly oblivious to the reactions of Steve’s body to yours, continuing to jot down your measurements and take new ones.  “I just need to get your inseam and then we’ll be done.”

Steve tenses.  He may have spoken too soon.

With the tape between two fingers, you place your hand  _dangerously_  close to the apex of his thighs.  There's a part of him that sits deep in the back of his mind actually kind of wants you to touch him.  Wants to see your reaction to finding out what you do to him.

Steve tries desperately to keep those urges from coming forward.

“Alright,” you smile sweetly up at him, pulling your hands back.  “That should be everything I need,” you tell him, standing up as you jot down a few more notes in your notebook, completely unaware of the havoc you’ve wreaked upon your soulmate.

Steve begins to feel a little guilty for his reactions.  He knows it’s too early in your relationship for  _those_  kinds of thoughts.  But you’re just  _so_  beautiful and so perfect. His body aches for your touch.  He watches you as you set your notebook down, your eyes continually sweeping over the numbers to make sure you got everything.  You distractedly begin to roll the tape measure back up between your fingers.

“Have dinner with me,” the words tumble out of Steve’s mouth before he’s even realized he had the thought.

You look up at him in surprise.

“I mean…” he back tracks. “If you want…  And if you don’t already have plans.  Maybe you’d like to?” he asks awkwardly.

Your lips melt into a gentle smile and once again Steve is finding it difficult to control his body. On second thought, maybe this is a bad idea.  “Okay,” you tell him.  Too late.

Steve clears his throat, silently cursing the appendage down south.  “Great.”

You release a small laugh. “Great,” you repeat.

Before Steve can make an even bigger fool of himself, there’s another knock on the door.  The two of you turn to it.

“Come in,” you call out.

The door opens to reveal a beautiful woman with bright red hair.  Her sharp gaze washes over you and Steve before she raises a perfectly arched brow.  “Rogers, fancy seeing you here,” she comments, stepping inside.

“Nat,” Steve greets with a nod.  He crosses his arms over his chest, desperately trying to get his body in check. You may not have noticed anything, but  _nothing_  gets passed the Black Widow.  “Did you need something?”

Her gaze shifts to you. “I’m actually here for her.”

“Me?” you question.

Nat nods, “I’m to be your training instructor.”

“Oh,” you comment. You’d almost forgotten about that part of your agreement with Director Fury.

“We’ll start Monday, so bring gym clothes,” she tells you, leaving no room for argument.

“Okay.”

With a curt nod, she bids you and Steve farewell, before she leaves.

You gulp, looking back up at Steve.  “Is she always that intimidating?”

He laughs briefly, “You’ll get used to it.”

You don’t like the sound of that.  A short silence falls between the two of you.  “So… Dinner?” you question, looking up at him through your lashes.

Steve huffs, giving you an embarrassed smile.  “Right. Dinner.  Uh, I’ll pick you up at 7?  Or we could just stay in, if that’s what you’d prefer.  I don’t mind, either way,” he rambles.

It’s hard to fight your smile, he’s so endearing.  “7 sounds great.  And I’ve been wanting to try that Thai food place around the corner from the apartment. It smelled really good that day we walked passed.”

Steve nods in agreement. “Okay.”  His gaze washes over your face once more, before he looks to the door. “I should probably get back to training,” he sighs, he doesn’t really want to leave.

You have to try to hide your own disappointment.  “Oh. Alright.”

“But I’ll see you tonight?” he questions once more, just in case you’ve changed your mind in the last 5 seconds.

You smile warmly.  “Yes, 7 o’clock.”

He smiles back.  “7 o’clock.”


	9. Chapter 9

Steve prides himself on his punctuality.  As soon as he comes home to his apartment, at 5:30, he hops in the shower.  By 6:00, he’s dressed and ready for dinner.  He proceeds to spend the next 45 minutes pacing around his apartment, going over every possible scenario for how tonight can pan out.  What will you guys talk about?  What if you’re shown to a table that seats 4, does he sit next to you or across from you? What if there’s too many people? Should he make a reservation? What if the music plays so loud you can’t hear each other speak.  What if the sky opens up and there’s another alien invasion?!  The possibilities were endless.

Meanwhile, downstairs… You had already changed 4 times, put on makeup, washed off said makeup, put on  _new_  makeup, and you couldn’t for the life of you decide what shoes you wanted to wear.  Steve was going to be here in 15 minutes and you didn’t even know if you should wear heels or flats.

This was a date.  Your  _first_  date.  You were not about to let your  _shoes_  ruin it.  Flats were safer, less prone to tripping.  But you had a pair of heels that were just  _so cute_. You’d done a little shopping the weekend before, because the clothes provided to you by SHIELD weren’t exactly your style.  But then again, nothing from the current times were really your style.  But you’d been pleasantly surprised to find out that some stores carried ‘vintage’ styles, and though they weren’t exact, they were definitely close.

You groan audibly, closing your eyes and just reach forward to see what your hands land on.  It was the heels.  “Okay, here’s to hoping I don’t trip tonight.”

You put the final touches on your outfit, grabbing a coat and double checking the items in your purse, when there’s a knock on the door.  You open it to reveal Steve’s smiling face.  “Hey, you ready?”

You can’t help but grin widely back.  “Yeah, let’s go.”  Stepping out, you join Steve in the hallway.  You look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to start moving for the stairs.

He stares back at you for a moment before raising a brow.  “Don’t you need to lock up…?” he questions, glancing at your door.

“Oh!” you start. “Right.  That’s uh… That’s probably a good idea,” you laugh in embarrassment, looking for your keys in your purse.  It seems to take a painfully long amount of time before you do.  As quick as you can, you turn the lock and throw the keys back in.  “Alright.  _Now_  we can go.”

Steve smiles sweetly and nods.  The two of you walk out of the building together and start making your way to the restaurant.  You walk side by side, neither one of you knowing if you should hold hands or have your arms around each other, or anything.  Steve now wishes he’d actually payed attention to Bucky’s lessons on how to woo a dame.

After a few failed attempts at reaching out for you, Steve settles for stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and decides to focus on a topic of conversation instead. “So…  How was the rest of your day?” He cringes to himself in his head. Really?  This is your  _soulmate_  and all you can think to ask about is her workday?!

But the genuine smile that lights up your face helps to ease some of his anxiousness.  “I’m making steady progress.  I may even have a few sketches for you to look at next week.  If you have time, of course.”

Steve feels his own smile stretch across his lips.  “That’s great.  I’m sure I can find some time for another visit.”

“Great!” you beam brightly up at him.

Steve can’t seem to keep his gaze off you.  You’re absolutely breath taking and he still can’t completely wrap his head around the fact that you’re  _his_.  The woman he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.  His other half.  The reason his heart beats in his chest.

You come to a stop, looking up and noticing the distracted look on his.  “Steve?” you call out.

He blinks, snapping out of it.  “Hmm?”

You point toward the building you’re standing in front of.  “We’re here.”

“Oh!” he looks over, before chuckling in slight embarrassment.  “Right.” He moves to pull open the door for you, allowing you to enter first.

You give him your thanks as you step through.  The restaurant isn’t nearly as crowded as Steve had originally feared, and the two of you are quickly taken to a table.  Silence settles back between the two of you as you take the time to look over the menu.

“I don’t know what any of this is…” you whisper quietly in observance.  You’d never had Thai food before and barely any of the terms on the menu were familiar to you.

Steve releases a low laugh. “Me neither.  Just think of it as an adventure.  And if we don’t like it, I think I saw a deli across the street that can be our contingency plan.”

You laugh as well, grateful that you’re in the same boat as him.  You don’t know what you would have done if you had to figure out everything in these modern times by yourself.  “Sounds good.”

* * *

“So, the dog goes running off, Bucky’s boot dangling from its mouth.  Bucky tries to go after him, but he’s hobbling around on one boot, right? Chases him in a circle around the block  _three times_!  Eventually Buck just stopped, pulled off his second boot and just threw it, yelling out “Fine! Take ‘em both, ya mangy mutt!””

You burst into another round of laughter, listening to Steve’s story.

He grins widely, proud to have elicited such a sound from you.  “I was laughing so hard, Buck had to carry me home.”

Your laughter soon dissolves to giggles before you release a content sigh as you wipe a stray tear from the corner of your eye.  “Did he ever get his boots back?”

Steve shakes his head, his beaming grin never fading.  “Nope. Thought his Ma was gonna cook us alive.”

“I’m glad she didn’t,” your eyes shine in amusement as you look up at your soulmate.  “Though, the two of you were quite a handful when you were younger, weren’t you?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah.  But I don’t think that’s something I ever grew out of.  It’s probably the  _only_  thing I didn’t grow out of.”

“You’re still a handful?” you question with a teasing grin.

“Just one big trouble maker,” he jokes.

“Lucky me.”  You look up into his crystal gaze, filled with so much joy and life.  You truly  _are_ lucky.  Because this man before you is absolutely perfect.  And he’s all yours.

You briefly notice that you’re leaning in, completely enraptured by him.  Steve must notice it too, because his eyes dart down to your lips. He leans in a little closer, but just when you think he’s going to go all the way, he blinks and then he leans back.

“Um, I’m going to go ask the waiter for our check.”  He scratches at the back of his neck and smiles a little awkwardly before he stands.

You try not to let your disappointment show, keeping your smile in place.  “Oh, alright.”

He nods before turning to head to the front of the restaurant and he moves out of site.

Your smile drops and you bite your bottom lip.  The date had been going wonderfully until that little interaction.  Did he not want to kiss you?  Was there something wrong with you?  You try not to let your self-doubt ruin the good mood that had been set, but that was a task easier said than done.

You look up when Steve approaches a few minutes later.  He gives you a gentle smile.  “I took care of it.  Ready to go?”

You nod and move to stand up.  “Sure.” Steve helps you into your coat and then places a hand at the center of your back to guide you out of the restaurant.

Conversation flows a little easier between the two of you on your walk home.  Steve follows you up the stairs of your apartment building until you both come to a stop in front of your door.  “I had a wonderful time, tonight, Steve,” you tell him as you fiddle with your purse, not quite ready to grab your keys and go inside yet.

“Good enough to warrant a second date, maybe?” he asks hesitantly.

You look up to meet his gaze, your smile easing some of the tension in his shoulders.  “Hopefully more than that.”

He breathes a laugh of relief, glancing down and nodding.  “Yeah.  That sounds good to me.”

When he looks back up at you, he’s got that crooked smile spread across his lips and it makes your knees weak.  You watch his eyes dip to your mouth again.  Your heart skips a beat and you  _know_  he felt it, because you see his pupils dilate just a fraction.

You thought you had hidden your earlier disappointment pretty well, but Steve had managed to catch a small glimpse of it before he walked away from the table.  He’d spent the whole walk to the front of the restaurant arguing with himself on if it was too soon to kiss you or not.  Did it really matter though if both of you wanted it?

This was his second chance, but he found that he was still having the same argument.  Almost 70 years had passed since the two of you met, but in  _reality_ , you’d only known each other a few weeks. The rational part of his brain was beginning to win, but just when he’s about to pull back, he hears Bucky’s voice screaming in his head.  _Just grow a damn pair, Rogers!_   It shocks him enough that he leans forward instead and captures your mouth with his own.

Your eyes widen in shock for a brief second before they fall shut, your hands reaching out to grip his jacket.  A little over eager, and without much experience, Steve accidentally presses too firmly, your mouths meshing and your teeth clashing, your noses pushed a little too tightly together.  You both pull back with a slight wince.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Don’t really know what I’m doing.” He’s slightly mortified.  Was it  _supposed_  to hurt?

“It’s okay.  Me neither.”  You know that he must be questioning himself, so before he can completely back away, you grasp the lapels of his jacket and pull him back in.

He tries to be gentler this time, tilting his head to avoid your nose and brushing his lips ever so slightly against yours.  He feels your sigh against his lips and takes that as a good sign.  One of his hands grips at your waist, the other moving to hold the back of your neck as he slowly increases the pressure of his lips against yours.  Your fingers slowly release his jacket, sliding up to curl one hand over his shoulder, while the other scratches lightly at the short hair at his nape.

The feeling of your hands on him makes his whole body shiver in pleasure.  His hand on your hip moves to your back, pushing gently until your body is tucked perfectly against his.  Now  _this_  is what it’s supposed to feel like.  Two people with a unique connection, experiencing the mutual pleasures that come with sharing your bodies.

You release the tiniest of moans, but it’s enough to set Steve’s blood on fire.  He’s completely tuned into you.  The way you feel against him, the enthralling scent of your perfume, the accelerated beat of your heart in his chest.  It makes him feel weak, but at the same time he feels like he could take on a whole army.  He feels energized, revitalized, more alive than he’s ever felt his whole life.

He wants more.  He realizes quickly.  He wants it  _all_.

It’s upon that realization that he pulls back.  Once again, the words  _too soon_  are ringing through his head.  He needs to have patience.  He doesn’t want to move too quickly and frighten you.  That would destroy him.

But seeing the look of bliss on your face is almost too much for him to resist.  It takes you a second to come back from the kiss, your eyes glazed and your lips plump.  Steve pulls together any scrap of self-control he can find to stop himself from diving in for another.

Steve’s gaze washes over your face, trying to remember every single detail so he won’t ever forget this moment.  “I should go,” he whispers to you, not wanting to ruin the moment by talking too loudly.

“Okay,” you whisper back, but make no move to pull away.

Steve’s eyes fall back to your lips.   _Just one more_.  He leans back in.  You respond readily, having no objections to continuing where you’d left off.  This kiss isn’t nearly as long, but it still feels just as good.

“Have a good night, Y/N,” Steve tells you, pulling away just a fraction.

You chase after him, not quite ready to be done yet.  He has no objections.  “You, too, Steve.”

You both share one last kiss, getting that last taste of each other, before finally pulling back. The two of you have mirroring expressions, wide smiles, blown pupils, swollen lips.  You share a laugh of embarrassment, both of you dropping your gazes shyly.

Steve takes a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets as you turn to place your keys in the lock. “Goodnight,” he tells you again after you’ve got the door open.

You turn your head to him, giving him one last smile.  “Night,” you can feel the heat in your cheeks as you watch the smile grow on his face.

Steve waits for you to step inside your apartment and shut the door before he turns for the stairs. He feels like he’s about to burst from the amount of happiness filling his body.  It’s a feeling he can certainly get used to.


	10. Chapter 10

You wince after your back hits the mat,  _again_.  A pained groan leaves your lips as you take a second before pushing yourself up again.

“You’re getting better,” the redhead states, standing above you.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you respond with another groan.

“You’re able to get back up though.  You used to just lay there,” her lips curl into a smirk.

You give her a lighthearted glare, too intimidated by her to give her a real one.  “I don’t think I can really count that as progress.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, “Every bit counts.”

The two of you look over when the door to the personal training room opens and Steve walks in. You smile brightly, before remembering that you weren’t really supposed to  _know_  him, and quickly suck your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent your smile from growing further.

“Rogers,” Nat greets, jutting her hip out and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hey.  How’s it going?” he asks, his eyes flickering between the both of you.

Nat’s gaze seems to pierce straight through you.  “Slow improvement.  But we’ll get there.”

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks in mortification.

Steve gives you a small smile.  “She’s not working you too hard, is she?”

You drop your gaze, your foot shuffling slightly at the mat.  “No, it’s okay.”

“I have some time this afternoon to come by your office.  You said you had a few sketches to show me, right?” Steve asks.

You lift your eyes back up to his.  “Yeah, I- Uh.  That sounds good.”  You push some of your hair back behind your ear, trying to figure out how to get ahold of yourself.

His features soften as he nods.  “I’ll see you then.”  He begins to move back for the door.  “Try not to break her, Romanoff,” he calls from the door.

Nat smirks darkly, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Steve scoffs out a laugh and shakes his head before stepping out of the room.

Nat gives you a pointed look.  “So  _that’s_  why Fury has me training you.”

You give her a panicked look like a deer caught in headlights.  “W-what?”

Her smile is anything but innocent.  “The two of you are so obvious.  I’m almost ashamed I didn’t realize it the first time I saw you two together.”

You swallow thickly, trying to gain some semblance of composure.  “Natasha, you can’t tell anyone.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh please.  I’ve kept enough secrets to fill a vault.  Besides, with the way you both act around each other, it’s not me you have to worry about.  It looks like defense isn’t the only training you’re going to need.  And I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

* * *

By mid-afternoon, you’ve got your sketches for Steve’s suit displayed across the table.  Various designs, that combine the bold color scheme that everyone has come to know with a modern-militaristic flair.  You figured that one of the reasons Steve hadn’t been fond of his newer uniform was that it had lost the military style and became more akin to his show costume.  You tried to revert back to a style similar to the one he used in the war, making it look and function in a tactical manner.

While you wait for him to show up, you work on a sketch for your own personal benefit.  It had a darker color scheme than the others, mostly blue with a hint of maroon against the sides and silver star and stripes across the chest.  You accent the blue with a brown leather belt, gloves and shoulder straps for the magnetic backplate to grip his shield.  The design was meant to extend upon Steve’s already built frame, padded in the right places for protection, but still give the appearance of form fitting.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and tilt your head a little as you begin to shade the colors across the torso on the suit.  You can’t help but remember how tightly your body had been pressed to his last week after your date.  How  _firm_  he’d felt against you.  Though, you hadn’t seen directly what lay beneath his shirt, it wasn’t difficult to imagine.

You’re pulled from your less than innocent thoughts when there’s a knock on the door.  You jolt back from the drawing, your blood running hot like you were caught doing something bad.  Standing up, you attempt to pull yourself together before calling to allow the person entrance.  You’re greeted once again by Steve’s smiling face.

“Hey,” he addresses you, stepping in and closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” you move forward, meeting him halfway as he approaches.

His hands reach for your hips.  You realize he must have recently showered, his hair is still damp and he smells like soap. It’s somehow the best thing you’ve ever smelled.  He gently pulls your body closer, gaze dropping to your lips.  “Can I…?” he asks, voice low.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your knees already growing weak.  “We’re at work, Steve,” you protest, aiming to be the voice of reason, though you’re not particular firm about it.

“No one’s around,” he argues with a tilted smile, continuing to lean in slightly.

“This is the kind of thing that gets you in trouble, Steven.  No respect for the rules,” you grin in amusement.

“Only when the rules are stupid.”

You’re able to get out a brief laugh before he’s slanting his lips over yours.  Any reservations left are wiped in an instant as you release a content sigh and your body melts into his.  Based on the taste of mint in his mouth, he must have brushed his teeth recently too, which means he had every intention of doing this before he even arrived.  Steve Rogers was a trouble maker disguised as a boy scout and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You run your fingers through his wet strands, making them stick in all directions.  His hands squeeze at your hips, lips continuing to mold with yours for another minute.  With a parting brush, he pulls back.  Your face heats at the crooked grin he sends you.  “I think that one was definitely worth the risk.”

You can’t help but smile, though you drop your gaze demurely.  “So…” you start, turning to the table.  “These are what I’ve got so far.  This first one is basically just a remake of your old suit, but we’ll be using newer materials for greater protection.  I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go with something so sentimental, though, or if you just want to leave that part of your life in the past.”

You give a general explanation of each design to give him some background on why you went in each direction.  After you’ve worked your way through, you step back to give him some time to look over his options.  You watch the look of concentration on his face as he looks them over multiple times. His expression is hard to read, you can’t tell if he liked them.  What if he hated them all and was just trying to keep his expression neutral so as not to hurt your feelings?

Feeling your throat run dry, you excuse yourself briefly to get to the water cooler just down the hall. Pulling a paper cup from the dispenser, you fill it and then down it in one go.  You don’t know why you were so nervous.  You guess it’s because this was the first time you’d ever  _really_  designed something for someone.  You don’t know how Audrey could have done this for a living, you were a nervous wreck and your ‘customer’ was just your  _soulmate_.  Though you’re not really sure if that made things easier or harder…

You gulp down two more cups of water before mustering the courage to head back.  As you walk through the door, you see that Steve has moved closer to your desk, a piece of paper in his hand.  He glances up at your entrance.  “What about this one?” he questions you, showing you the paper.

It’s the sketch you’d been working on when he came in.  Your heart just about stops before rapidly accelerating and you curse at your inability to stay composed, because now he  _knows_ how flustered you are.  “I- That’s not-  I was just…” you stumble over your words, not able to form something with even a semblance of coherence.  “Um, I was just messing around,” you finally get out feebly.

Steve glances back down at the sketch, interest igniting his gaze.  “Tell me about it,” he insists.

You chew on your bottom lip as you move toward him, your eyes falling to the sketch.  “Well… I guess I was trying to go for a more… stealthy look?” you begin, trying to come up with any kind of explanation for your guilty pleasure drawing.  “It’s just, everyone here has black uniforms.  And I guess I just thought, if you were in darker colors you’d blend in a little better.  I figure being Captain America already puts a big target on you, we don’t really need to make it easier for them to spot you out too.”

Steve nods along to your reasoning, “Makes sense.”

You have to fight against your sigh of relief, barely able to believe you were able to pull that out of nowhere.

Steve lifts his gaze, looking at you as you look over the sketch in his hands.  “You like this one,” his words come out as a statement, not even a hint of question in them.

You glance at him briefly, startled by his conviction, before dropping your gaze in embarrassment. “It’s not really about what I like. You’re the one that has to wear it,” you deflect.

Steve smiles, “Yeah, but you have to make it.  I don’t want you working on something you hate.”

You raise a brow as you look up at him.  “I wouldn’t have made any of these designs if I hated them.”

He chuckles.  “Still, if you like this one, then it’s the one I want.”  He hands the paper back to you.

You take it graciously, glancing down at it before looking back up at him.  “O-okay…”

He sends you a soft smile. “I knew you’d be great at this.”

God, why was he so  _sweet_?  “Thanks, Steve.”  And why the hell can’t you seem to take a compliment from him without getting flustered?

“Wanna grab dinner again tonight?” he asks, stepping closer until his chest his brushing against your arm.

You couldn’t fight the shiver that ran up your back if you tried.  “Sure.”

He leans down, brushing his lips against your temple.  “I’ll pick you up at 7, then.”

“Alright.”

The two of you say your goodbyes before Steve heads back to training.

* * *

The next few weeks seem to pass in a blur.  With the design for his suit established, you start working more with the rest of the uniform specialists for getting it made.  It wasn’t as simple as stitching pieces of fabric together, like you had originally thought.  The machinery to cut most of the fabrics you were going to use were well beyond anything you were familiar with.  Ballistic armor also had to be designed and molded to be placed between the fabrics, which majorly dampened the flexibility to rigidity ratio of the suit.  And then you had to talk with the tech specialists on how Steve’s com-system would work, his tracking mechanism and his vitals monitoring system.

On top of all that, you were still spending your mornings with Natasha.  You were finally coming to a point that you were more comfortable defending yourself, though you were still no match for her talents.  Through getting to know her a little better, you were still incredibly intimidated, but you were also learning that she could actually be kind of nice, in her own way.  She often teased you about Steve, and you’re pretty sure she thought it was hilarious how easily those conversations could fluster you.  But in a way, it helped too.  The more you grew used to her taunting, the less likely you’d become to getting flustered around Steve, as well.

Adjusting to modern life was still a bit of a challenge.  You didn’t particularly like being out on your own, preferring the comfort of having Steve with you, or occasionally Natasha.  After a few failed shopping trips, you’d also decided to save your money to invest in your own personal sewing machine for home, where you could design and make outfits to your own personal preference.  Now nearly every available space in your apartment was covered in fabric rolls or scraps.

Steve had told you it looked like a circus exploded in your apartment.  Only to grunt in surprise when you’d elbowed him in the chest. Your relationship with him continued to grow as the weeks passed.  Friday night-date night had become a habitual occurrence and was later followed with weekend movie marathons to get you both caught up on pop culture.  He spent more time in your apartment than his own, though he always ended your nights together with a parting kiss before trekking up the stairs to sleep in his own place.

He never stayed the night. Which, for a while you were okay with. But as your kissing sessions grew lengthier, the desire to give yourself fully to your soulmate also grew.  You first tried giving him subtle hints; curling closer to him when you were watching a movie, placing his hands in more provocative locations when you kissed, tugging him closer when he tried to pull back.  But ever the gentlemen, Steve always managed to deflect your advancements.  When you realized that maybe  _he_ wasn’t ready quite yet, you’d tried to back off.  You eventually had to resort to asking Natasha for advice, though most of what she told you to do was far too bold in your opinion.

She went so far as to send you a couple videos telling you that they’d show you different ways of get Steve to do what you’d wanted.  You barely got through the first five minutes of one before realizing that she’d sent you porn videos.  It nearly gave you a heart attack, so bad that Steve had come running from his apartment upstairs to check on you.

From then on, you declared you’d never ask Natasha for advice on anything ever again.  You managed to convince yourself that you were just going to have to suck it up and wait for Steve to make the first move. The both of you came from a time where it was highly encouraged to get married before sex, but at the moment, neither looked very likely for your future.  You’d just have to learn to be patient.  Once again…

* * *

“So, how do I look?”

You glance up, eyes widening at Steve’s approach.  This was the first time he was finally putting on the completed uniform.  Months of work finally coming together.  And damn did he look amazing.

Steve takes in the shocked look on your face, a satisfied grin curling at the corners of his lips. “That good, huh?” he chuckles.

You snap back to reality, narrowing your gaze playfully at him.  “How does it feel?” you question, attempting to keep your professionalism.

He rolls his shoulders and swings his arms experimentally, feeling the way the uniform follows his movements.  “Pretty good. The torso is a little stiff, but I probably just need to get used to the plating.  The fingerless gloves are a nice touch, gives me improved dexterity.” He glances down at his hands and wiggles his fingers.  You have to fight the urge to press your thighs together when he does so.

“You’ve finished just in time, too.  I’ve been approved for field work.  My first mission is next week,” he tells you off handedly, as he continues to look over the different aspects of his uniform.

Your breath hitches in your throat.  “Mission?” you repeat.  This is the first you’re hearing about it.

Steve’s gaze swings back to meet yours, his eyes softening when he notes the distress in your features. “Yeah.  This is what all my training has been leading up to.  Surely, you must have known…”

You drop your gaze, trying to shield your disappointment from him.  “I guess I never really made the connection.  I’ve been so focused on making your uniform, I never really put together that you were going to  _need_  it.”  He steps up to you, his leather covered palm cradling your cheek.  “How long will you be gone?” you ask him, hesitantly meeting his gaze.

“Just a few days.”

It sounded so simple. You both have often spent several days without seeing each other these past weeks.  But at least you knew he was nearby.  Now you would have no idea where he was.  “Be careful,” you beg, fingers clutching at the fabric over his biceps.

“I will,” he promises. “I’ve got a girl to come home to now.”

The smile you give him feels forced, and you know he realizes it, but he doesn’t protest when you’re pulling his face down to yours.  He may not be leaving right now, but it already felt like your goodbyes were going to be happening too soon.  As long as he was here, he was safe.  Out there… there was no telling what would happen.

“Natasha will be there with me.  She’ll have my back,” he reassures you.  He then pats his hand against the torso of his new uniform, “And with how much padding you’ve put into this thing, I’m pretty sure my front is covered, too.”

His poor attempt at a joke is enough to get a real smile on your lips, even if it’s small.  “Just come back to me, soldier.”

He pulls you in for another kiss.  “Yes, ma’am.”


	11. Chapter 11

The following week, you attempt to tidy up your office as a means of distraction.  Steve had left the country hours ago, and with his absence grew the hole in your chest.  It felt worse than how it had before, when he left to war.  You figure it must be because you’d finally had a taste of each other.

You gather scraps of fabric off the floor and across the table, disposing of the smaller pieces and saving the larger.  You organize your papers, various sketches and notes.  You try to make it last as long as possible, moving slowly and sometimes re-organizing things you’ve already gone through.  You know that once you’re done, you’ll have no reason to stay, and at that point you’ll be left to your empty apartment, with nothing but your own thoughts and worries.

You pause when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” you call out.

An agent you’ve never met before opens the door.  “Director Fury has requested your presence,” he tells you formally.

You release a solemn sigh, knowing that he’s probably going to tell you your work here is done, and you’re not allowed back.  You follow the agent to the elevators and through the building until you both reach Fury’s office.  The man tells you to enter.

Director Fury is sitting at his desk as you step through the door.  He gestures for you to take a seat across from him.  You move hesitantly, trying and failing to not show your nervousness at being alone with him.  You were pretty sure he would never hurt you, at least not physically, but you know that if he wanted to, he certainly  _could_.

“How are you coping with Roger’s absence?” he asks politely once you’re settled in your seat.

You shrug a shoulder, keeping your gaze lowered, “As best as I can, I guess…”

He remains quiet for a moment, simply observing you.  It takes everything within you to not squirm.  “I have another assignment for you.  It would seem that you could benefit from a distraction.”

You finally meet his gaze, looking at him in shock.  “An assignment?” you repeat.

He pushes a manila folder across his desk toward you.  Eyeing it curiously, you reach out and take it.  Within the folder are several images.  Some sort of concept art.  “The Smithsonian National American History Museum has begun planning an exhibit centered around Captain America,” Fury explains as you flip through the concept art images.  “We’ve been in discussion with them for a while, as SHIELD was in possession of several artefacts that they wish to put on display.”

You lift your gaze back up to his.  “What does this have to do with me?  I was stuck in Brooklyn the whole time, it’s not like I have much information to give them. And I would think you wouldn’t want me too either…”

Fury puts his hand up to stop you.  “They need someone to recreate the Howling Commando uniforms.  They requested one of our uniform specialists to help them with the recreation.  And considering you’re the original designer, I figured you’d do a better job than anyone else around here.”

Your heart pumps a little faster in your chest.  If you weren’t mistaken, you’re pretty sure that that had been a compliment.  You feel an odd mix of pride and embarrassment in your chest.  “I only designed Steve’s uniform, not all of them…” you mutter.

“Is that a no, then?” Fury questions.

“What?!  No!” you speak in alarm, clutching the folder to your chest almost defensively.  “I mean- yes! I-” you stumble over your words.  “I would love to be a part of this project.”

You barely note the slight humor in his features.  “Good. You meet with the exhibit director tomorrow.”

The next few months pass in a flurry of planning and research to try to make your uniforms as accurate as possible.  You trade your office at the Triskellion for one at the Museum.  The staff there are considerably less intimidating than anyone you met at SHIELD, and you find that surrounding yourself with so much history actually makes blending in a little easier.  Nearly everyone there was an expert on a particular time period, that no one ever questioned how you knew so much from the 30s and early 40s.  In fact, after showing how knowledgeable you were, and inputting a few corrections to the design of the exhibit, you found yourself getting asked to help with much more than just the Commando uniforms.

It certainly helped to have an inside source.  Steve had been incredibly embarrassed when you first told him about the exhibit.  He said it felt like they were building him a shrine, and that’s never what he wanted.  But after you explained to him how important his story was to America’s history, and how he could use this as a chance to set the record straight, to tell his  _real_  story, he finally relented.

The two of you fall into as comfortable a routine as possible, given his schedule.  When he’s in the country, you try to make the most of the time you have together.  And when he’s not, you tend to over work yourself as a distraction, though you’d never tell him that.  However, you’re pretty sure he already knows.  He sees the bags under your eyes, and even though you see his too, neither of you comment about it to each other.  The separation is hard on the both of you, especially since your relationship was just beginning to develop.  But you try your best to figure it out.

As opening night of the exhibit approaches, both excitement and anxiety fills your veins.  It’s one of the rare nights that both you and Steve have off, so you’re spending it together.  After having dinner together, you walk out of the restaurant hand in hand. He pulls you over to his bike. Opening the compartment beneath the seat, he grabs your helmet and hands it to you.  “Safety first,” he grins, helping you clip the strap beneath your chin.

You raise a brow, unable to keep the grin from curling at your lips.  “Says the man that never wears a helmet, unless he’s in uniform.”

He chuckles under his breath.  “I’ve got a hard head.”  He turns toward the bike, throwing a leg over it and straddling the seat.

“Don’t I know it,” you comment with a shake of your head, before climbing on after him.  “Can we stop at the museum before we head home?” you enquire, wrapping your arms around his strong torso.

He throws an incredulous look over his shoulder.  “You’ve been staying late all week.  I thought you said your boss gave everyone the night off tonight.”

You give him an innocent smile.  “Just trust me, okay?”

He scoffs in amusement but concedes.  The bike purrs to life beneath you moments before he takes off.  You remember how hesitant you’d been the first time you rode with Steve on his bike.  He’d seen the nervousness clear on your face and told you that you didn’t have to get on, that you could both take a cab instead.  But you had shaken your head and told him that you trusted him to take care of you.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so brightly.

As you approach the museum, you direct him to the back entrance.  Sliding off the bike, you hand him back the helmet and attempt to fix your hair while he puts it away.  “Come on!” you grin in excitement, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the back door.

You pull your key card out of your purse, slide it though the slot and input the code before the little red dot on the console turns to green and the door unlocks.  Most of the lights inside have been turned off, making the empty building seem almost eerie, but you know this place by heart now, so it’s not difficult for you to find your way.

“Where are we going?” Steve questions, when he’s pretty sure you both just passed a door that leads to the offices.

“Shhh,” you hush gently, continuing to tug him along.

“Who’s there?”  The two of you stop and squint when a flashlight shines directly into your eyes.  “Ms. L/N?”

You recognize the voice of the security guard before he lowers the light and your eyes adjust enough to be able to see him.  “Hey Stanley,” you smile kindly.

“What are you doing here this late?  Everyone else is long gone.  And who’s this?” the older man, lifts the light back onto Steve’s face.

Steve squints again, raising a hand to help shield his sensitive eyes from the light.  “Stanley, this is Steve.  I wanted to show him the exhibit,” you explain.

“Hey!  You’re the guy whose face is all over the place!” Stanley remarks in recognition.

Steve laughs in embarrassment, scratching at the back of his neck, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Well why didn’t you say so? I’ll go turn on the lights,” with that, he ambles away before either of you can say much else.

You and Steve share a light laugh before you continue through the museum.  His eyes widen as you both approach the main entrance to his exhibit.  “Captain America… The Living Legend,” he reads the title of the exhibit.

You watch a range of emotions fly across his face, surprise, wonder, apprehension and maybe even nervousness.  You bite your bottom lip, those last few emotions making you worry.  “I wanted to show you now, considering you won’t be here for the opening.  But if you don’t want to-”

“No,” he cuts you off, schooling his feature, he gives you a gentle smile.  “It’s okay.  I want to see all your hard work.”

You run your gaze across his face, wanting to make sure he was positive before you nod and begin to pull him in.

He chuckles lowly upon seeing the mural of him saluting.  “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing my face plastered on the wall.”

You look at him over your shoulder, “Then I guess I should warn you that there’s a bigger one inside.”

He gives you a crooked grin, “Of course there is.”

The two of you come to a stop in front of his pre- and post-serum pictures.

“Really?  That’s the picture you’re going with?” he rolls his eyes upon seeing the picture that was taken right as he had come out of the vita-ray pod, shirtless with his new muscles on full display.

You release a girlish giggle, looping your arm through his and leaning against his side.  “I didn’t choose it…  But I also didn’t say anything against it,” you grin cheekily up at him.

He grins too, showing you he’s not mad, as he shakes his head.  You then pull him into the main room.  “Wow… you weren’t kidding,” he marvels upon seeing the gigantic mural painted across the wall.  “You made all of these?” he questions as you both stroll passed the uniforms.

You nod, smiling proudly at how they turned out.  “Down to the last stitch.”

“They’re perfect,” Steve compliments, looking down at you with a soft gaze.

Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing to your face.  “Thanks, Steve.”

The two of you stand there for a long moment, Steve clearly lost to his thoughts as memories of his friends play back in his mind.  Each uniform brings a distinct memory of that person.  It’s a bittersweet feeling for him.  His gaze lands on Bucky’s uniform and he feels his heart clench.  With the way you tuck yourself in a little closer, he knows you felt it.

“Steve,” you call as softly as you can, so as not to startle him.

He drags his gaze away to look down at you, only to find that you’re looking over your shoulder. Turning to follow your gaze, his heart clenches once more.  He walks almost in a trance toward the glass immortalization of his best friend.  He reads the description written on the glass before watching the old videos of their time together on the display panel in front.  So many memories, both good and bad play out in his head.  An entire lifetime that had been cut short.  For the both of them.

“I asked them to put this in here,” you explain quietly.  “Bucky’s story is so important to yours.  I knew there would always be something missing, if this wasn’t part of the exhibit, too.”

You hear Steve’s shaky exhale and when you look up, his eyes have glossed over with unshed tears.  “Thank you,” he mutters thickly.

You turn to him fully, “Oh Steve.”  Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull his head down, tucking it against your shoulder.  His arms encircle your waist, holding you tight.  He never really had the chance to properly grieve over Bucky’s death.  Even though it happened in 1945, to him it was just barely 2 years ago.  And sure, he’d had plenty of distraction to keep from dwelling on it, but he’d never been given the chance to find closure, to really accept what had happened.

Steve allows himself to break down in your arms.  He seeks the comfort of your embrace, because it’s the only place in this entire world that makes sense to him.  He knows that this is the one place that he can fall apart, because you’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

You run your fingers through his hair and hold him close.  You’re patient with him, knowing just how much he needs this.  He has to be so strong for everyone, all the time.  You need him to know that he doesn’t have to be like that with you.  He doesn’t have to put up a front, he can just be himself.

When he begins to pull back, his eyes are rimmed with red.  You cradle his face in your palms, wiping the few trails of tears left on his cheeks.  Steve is afraid of seeing pity in your gaze, but all he sees is your tender, understanding smile.  “I love you,” he finds the words tumbling out of his mouth.  He panics for a moment because his emotions are running high and he’s scared you’ll attribute his confession to that.  “I’ve known for a while.  And I’ve wanted to tell you.  I just didn’t really know when and I didn’t want to scare you-” He stops only when you gently press a finger to his lips.

“I love you, too, Steve,” you tell him sincerely.  “And for the record, I don’t think you could ever scare me.”

He gives you a heart-breaking smile before leaning down to capture your lips.  One arm remains firmly locked around your waist, while his other hand moves to cradle the back of your head.  He pours his emotions into the kiss, wanting to show you beyond reasonable doubt, just how much he cares for you.  You’re the very reason his heart beats, the rock that keeps him grounded, the sun that lights his life.  There are often times when he feels like he doesn’t deserve you, but damn is he glad you’re here anyway.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed.  “How did I get so lucky?” he whispers.  “You’re the best soulmate a man could ask for.”

You release a choked laugh, trying to retain your own emotions.  “I’m glad you think so.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit content meant for readers aged 18 and up

When Steve’s motorcycle pulls up to the apartment complex, you’re still not quite ready for the night to end.  The two of you are silent, fingers intertwined, as you climb the stairs. Your minds are still reeling from the emotional visit to the museum.  As you both come to a stop in front of your door, Steve turns you to face him, leaning in for another kiss.

Pushing forward, he gently presses you into the door, the heat coming off his body sustaining yours. One of your hands curls into the short hair at his nape, the other wrapping around his waist beneath his navy riding jacket.  The kiss is slow, almost serene; a tender caress between plump lips and shared breaths.

“Steve, don’t go,” you plead in the barest hint of a whisper when he pulls back.  “Stay.”

Pools of bright cerulean blue hold you in their spherical grasp as Steve’s gaze flickers between yours. He knows what you’re implicitly asking for.  He can read the expression on your face, feel the way your heart pounds in his chest. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Your fingers clench at the back of his shirt.  “Yes,” you respond without hesitation.

He lifts his hand, fingers brushing against your cheek before he curls a loose strand of hair behind your ear.  “Okay,” he agrees with a nod.

You feel your breath hitch, excitement bubbling deep in your belly.  You turn quickly and pull your keys from your purse.  Your hands shake slightly as you fit the key into the lock and open the door.  You feel Steve’s hands on your waist as he follows you in, kicking the door shut behind you both.  After placing your purse and keys on the side table, you’re turning back to face him again, pulling his lips eagerly down to yours.

Steve indulges in the kiss for a moment, relishing in your taste on his tongue, losing himself to your scent with every breath.  His hands follow your curves, moving down your sides until he’s grasping the back of your thighs.  He lifts your body into his arms, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, while you cling to his wide shoulders.

He carries you down the short hallway to your bedroom.  You expect him to lay you down against the mattress, but instead, he sets you back on your feet just at the end of the bed.  He pulls his lips from yours and you blink your eyes back open, looking at him curiously.

“Is this really what you want?” he asks, searching your gaze for his answer.

Your brow furrows. “Of course it is, Steve.”

He drops his gaze, a small frown twisting his lips.  “I know things are different, in this century.  I don’t want you to feel obligated to-”

“Steve,” you cut him off with a gentle smile.  “I’m not doing this out of obligation.”  You reach out for him, entwining your fingers with his.  “I want this, because I love you and I want to be with you.”  You hold his gaze to let him know how serious you are. “But if you’re not ready, that’s okay, too.  I can wait.”

You feel his hands tighten around yours.  “I’m ready. I just wanted to be sure that you were too.”

You look up at him tenderly. “I’m sure.”

You watch a crooked grin spread across his lips.  “I love you.”

You give him a sweet laugh, your fingers releasing his so you can curl your arms around his neck. “I love you, too.”

You lift onto your toes, until your lips meet his once again.  Slowly, articles of clothing begin to fall to the floor, Steve’s jacket, your shirt, his shoes.  Soon you’re fiddling the with clasp at the back of your bra and Steve’s got his jeans pushed down to his knees when he suddenly stiffens.  You find yourself pausing as well, wondering if he’s changed his mind.

“What is it?” you ask hesitantly.

“Uh…” his cheeks flush in embarrassment.  “I don’t have protection on me.  I’ll have to go upstairs.”

Your feel your own cheeks warm up, glancing at your bedside table.  “Oh, well… I have some.”

Steve raises a brow in surprise, watching as you move to open the small drawer.

You can’t find it in yourself to meet his gaze as you proceed to pull out three different boxes. “They come in different sizes, but I wasn’t sure which we would need…  So I got them all.”  You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, glancing at him warily from the corner of your eye.

He releases a small chuckle, pulling his jeans the rest of the way off and moving closer to you to place a chaste kiss on your forehead.  Your blood heats by several degrees when you watch him reach for the box of large condoms. He pops open the top and rips off the first of many foil packets before setting the packet back on the nightstand until it’s needed.

Steve’s fingers brush against your chin, guiding your face up until your eyes meet.  He gives you a soft smile, “You don’t have to be so embarrassed around me, sweetheart.”

You tug your lip back between your teeth, avoiding his direct stare.  “You saying that only makes me more embarrassed.”

He chuckles under his breath, giving you a sweet smile.  You can’t help but shiver as his fingers ghost up the path of your spine.  He unclips the back on your bra, before leaving his hand to rest, splayed out across the center of your back.  He feels the shuddering breath in your lungs, as the first flicker of uncertainty flashes across your eyes.

Steve patiently waits for your confidence to come back, an admiring look softening his features as you slowly move to push the straps from your shoulders and allow the bra to fall limply to the floor.  You feel vulnerable, exposed, even with your panties still in place.  But Steve gives you a look of such love and tenderness, you can feel your insecurities melting away.

He pulls your body back to his, the touch of his skin pressed so firmly against yours, searing you to your very core.  He lifts your body back into his arms mere moments before he lowers you onto the bed. His massive frame creates a barrier of warmth around yourself, the sheets beneath you drawing from that warmth as well.

Steve’s large calloused hands roam the length of your body, memorizing each curve with the utmost concentration and care.  Every place seems to come to life beneath his touch, goose bumps rippling across your skin, muscles clenching, blood rushing.  You’re positively breathless, squirming beneath him, and he’s barely even done anything to you.

“Steve…” his name falls as a sigh from your lips.

It sends ripples of awareness through every fiber of his being.  The trails of fire created by his fingers across your skin burn even hotter when he begins to follow those trails with his lips.  Light as a feather, his lips sweep over your exposed flesh, over your breasts, down your navel, across your thighs.

His fingers hook into the band of your undies before slowly pulling them down your legs.  He removes the last barrier that protects your innocence, unveiling you completely to him.  You nearly hold your breath in anticipation as he takes you in.  Steve is not just any man, he is your soulmate. And the look in his eyes is everything you could have ever hoped for.  Adoration, desire, love.  This man is your whole world, the very heart that beats in your chest.  And right now, he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful being to walk this earth.  It’s enough to make you dizzy.

But then he’s touching you and you can’t help but moan at his ministrations.  His fingers dance against your folds, feeling your heat and slick.  Your breaths hitch in your throat.

“This okay?” he asks, gaze flickering up to your face momentarily, before moving back to his wandering fingers.

“Oh yes…” you sigh breathlessly, hips rocking against his touch.

Steve can’t help but grin crookedly.  He circles around your entrance, drawing out more slick until he’s easily able to push a finger inside you.  Your hips jerk slightly at the intrusion, your walls clenching around the single digit.

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, your whole body flushing with heat.

Steve shushes you gently, as he curls his finger against your upper wall.  “Just trying to loosen you up a bit.  Don’t wanna hurt you, doll.”

A soft keen escapes your lips as he fits a second finger inside you and suddenly you understand his meaning.  Just those two fingers and you could already feel a slightly uncomfortable stretch. It was beginning to make you question how on earth you were possibly going to fit all of  _him_  down there.

“Just relax and let me take care of you,” Steve soothes when he feels you tensing up.  He rocks his palm ever so slightly against you, keeping his fingers buried deep as they repeatedly curl against your upper wall. He presses against a few different spots, almost as if he’s searching for something.

Suddenly you feel a jolt of pleasure rush through your body, pulling a gasp from your lips.  “ _Oh!_ ”

Steve’s grin widens in satisfaction, having found what he was looking for.  He concentrates on that area, curling his fingers against it and rubbing in tight circles.

Your breath begins to come out in broken pants, your back arching just slightly.  “Oh God- Steve!”  Your hand reaches down, clamping around his wrist.  You feel the corded muscles in his forearm tensing with the movement of his fingers.  Your hips work on instinct, grinding shamelessly against his hand.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good,” his voice has dropped a few octaves, taking on a rougher quality that has you reeling.

He pushes in a third finger and this time, you hardly notice the stretch.  He continues to hit you where you’re most sensitive, driving that pleasurable buildup higher and higher, that knot deep in your belly tightening further.

It doesn’t take much longer before it snaps and you’re suddenly overrun with blinding pleasure. You release a startled cry, not expecting it to feel  _so good_. Your thighs shake, muscles tensing, breath hitching in your chest.  The pleasure comes in waves, tensions building before slowly easing up.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” you ask breathlessly when your mind returns from the clouds.

You’re surprised when Steve’s cheeks flush a light pink, embarrassment lining his features.  “I may have read some things… on the internet.” He admits, carefully easing his fingers out of you.  “I wanted to be prepared if we ever… and I was scared I might hurt you… I just wanted to make sure it was special.”

To keep him from rambling further, you place your hand on his cheek and guide his lips back down to yours.  You kiss him gently, almost lazily, as the recent orgasm still makes you a little sluggish.  “It  _will_  be special,” you assure him, looking up into his crystalline gaze.  “Because I love you, and you’re my soulmate, and because…” you pause, turning away from him to reach for the foil packet on the nightstand.  Grabbing it between two fingers, you turn back to face him and hold it out to him.  “There’s no one that I trust more.”

Steve glances between the packet and your gaze, letting the truth in your tone wash away his insecurities. “I love you so much, Y/N,” he breathes, pulling the packet from your fingers and leaning in for another kiss.

Your hands map the plains of his chest as he settles over you, slowly making their way downward until you’re pushing his boxers down his slim waist.  Steve pulls back, helping you to push them further down his legs before he’s able to just kick them the rest of the way off.

You get your first look at him, in all his glory.  “Oh my God…”

“We’ll go slow,” he assures you.  “And if it hurts, just tell me and I’ll stop.  It’s okay,” he whispers sweetly.

You nod, unable to take your eyes off him.  You feel your gut clench, an odd mixture of eagerness and apprehension filling you. Releasing a shaky breath, you manage to shift your gaze back up to his.  “I trust you, Steve.”

He rips the condom open with his teeth, watching how you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and your pupils dilate.  He rolls the condom in place before settling back over you.  He finds your hand, entwining your fingers.  You give him a squeeze of encouragement as he aligns with your entrance.

True to his word, he takes things slow, moving fractions of inches, allowing your slick and the lubrication from the condom to make things easier.  You still feel that stretch as your walls try to accommodate for his girth, but the pain isn’t nearly as bad as you would have thought.  In fact, the more your bodies join as one, the  _better_  it feels.

“Oh Steve,” you breathe out, hips shifting subtly.

Steve stops his movements immediately.  “You okay?” he huffs.

You nod quickly. “Yes, don’t stop,” you beg urgently.  Your free hand reaches down the length of his back, grabbing a handful of his muscular ass and trying unsuccessfully to get him to keep moving.

He releases a breathless chuckle, doing as you’ve asked.  Your bodies shudder in unison when he’s finally pushed into the hilt. You feel so  _full_ and he can feel every flutter of your walls. Steve’s head bends down as he rests his forehead against yours.  “My heart’s beating so fast,” his whispers to you, lips barely caressing yours.

You laugh lightly.  “I know.”

“Didn’t hurt you, right?” he asks.

You swipe your thumb tenderly across the back of his hand.  “No.  It feels good, Steve.”

“So good,” he groans deeply. He needs another second to reign in his urges, but then he starts to move.

It’s shallow thrusts at first, your bodies still growing used to each other.  Cradled between your thighs, his hips rock in a rhythmic dance. You follow his lead, meeting him thrust for thrust.  You lift your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

Your bodies work in perfect synchronization, feeding off each other.  When you grow just a little more relaxed around him, he picks up the pace. When you feel his shoulders tense, you run your nails down his back.  When he hears your stuttering breath, he adds a roll of his hips to catch your clit against his pelvic bone.

Steve uses your body’s queues to guide his actions, that tactical mind of his picking up on the most subtle hints and accurately interpreting what you need from him.  “You are so beautiful,” he whispers tenderly, his nose brushing against yours.

You look up at him, drowning in the intensity of his gaze.  You can only imagine how you must look right now.  Hair tangled and damp with sweat, pupils blown, lips swollen.  But with the way he’s looking at you right now, you feel like one of those pinup girls that had been on the cover of all the magazines back in the 40’s.  Beautiful and perfect, not even a hair out of place.

Steve makes you feel desired and passionate.  His gaze holds a heat that fuels the burn deep in your belly.  Your joined bodies allow for the bridge to form between your souls.  You feel his warmth surround you, not just physically, but down to the very depths of your being.  He’s there, in the rapid beat of your heart, in the scent that fills your lungs, in the brush of skin on skin.  He’s  _everywhere_  and it feels absolutely amazing.

You’ve waited so long to be able to give yourself to your soulmate.  You’d imagined this moment more than a proper lady from the 40’s should ever admit.  Wondered how it would feel to be wrapped around him.  To share your body so intimately, sealing the bond between you both.

Your imagination couldn’t hold a candle to the reality of the event.  It was like climbing a mountain, knowing that the only way down is to jump from the top.  To allow the freefall to wipe away all your fears and insecurities.  To trust that Steve would be waiting at the bottom to catch you.

At this point, his pace has grown so fast, you can barely tell when he’s in you and when he’s not. All you know is that it feels amazing and you never want him to stop.  He soon pulls his hand from your grasp, fingers giving one last brush over your palm, before he trails down your stomach.

His harsh breaths fan across your cheeks, his face flushed in pleasure and his brow pulled in determination.  You feel the flutter of his fingers against the top of your mound.  Like before, he has to search a little, but he knows he’s found the right spot when you emit a tiny squeak and jerk into his touch.  He’s getting closer and closer to the edge of the precipice, and he needs to make sure you’re right there with him.

He revels in the little mewls and short moans he can pull out of you with his dexterous fingers. He occasionally punctuates them with a grunt or low groan of his own.  He rubs your clit in fast circles, noticing how your breath changes and how your hands clench around his shoulders.  His thrusts start to lose their measured precision, that flicker of pleasure tickling the base of his spine.

“ _Steve!_ ”  You chant his name like it’s the only word you know as you begin your freefall.  The pleasure is thick, bubbling up from your core and spreading through your veins.  You had thought the release from his fingers had been intense, but this time he’s joining you in Elysium.  Your climax hits at the same time as his, and you can actually feel his pleasure in your own.

He spills into the condom, hips stuttering to a stop as he remains as deeply buried as he physically can. Your walls clench around him, squeezing him tight and milking him dry.  There was a time that Steve thought he’d never get to feel something like this. He’d never be allowed such happiness. Being with you was like living a dream. He’s already experienced waking up from a nightmare.  He doesn’t think he could bare it, if he ever woke up from this.

You hold onto each other long after your bodies have stopped shaking.  You release a bleary hum as Steve begins to place soft kisses around your cheeks and the underside of your jaw.  Your hands run over his shoulders and down his back, feeling the prominent ridges of his muscle groups.  “Can we just stay here forever?” you sigh blissfully.

Steve chuckles quietly, the rush of air across your skin eliciting another shiver.  “We can stay here as long as you want,” he smiles down at you, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Good, because I don’t think I can move.”  You dramatically let your arms slip from around his neck, only to flop unceremoniously to the mattress as if you’ve lost all your strength.

Steve laughs more, shaking his head in amusement.  “Then I guess it’s up to me to get you cleaned up for bed.”

He shifts slowly to pull out of you before sitting up and scooping your body into his arms.  “Steve, I was kidding!” you yelp, wrapping your arms back around his neck.

He moves off the bed and takes you to the bathroom.  “You may be kidding now, but you’re likely going to be sore in the morning.  I’m just trying to be a good soulmate.”

He sets you on your feet over the plush bath mat by the sink.  You reach a hand out to the counter, realizing that your legs are, in fact, still a little weak.  “At least it will be a reminder of how my wonderful soulmate conducted research to ensure the satisfaction of his woman,” you grin teasingly at him through the mirror.

His cheeks flush once more in embarrassment, his head ducking down.  “I really wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”  He steps away from you, avoiding your gaze as he busies himself with disposing of his condom.

You release a girlish giggle, reaching out for his arm, you tug him back.  “Don’t feel embarrassed, Steve.  Your knowledge was greatly appreciated.  Besides, you’re not the only one that’s seen a thing or two on the internet,” you confess.

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise.  “You…?!”

Now it’s your turn to avoid his gaze in embarrassment.  “I… well. Nat sent me a few videos.”  You bite your lip, glancing up at him demurely. “I was mortified at first, but then I may have gotten curious…?”

Steve gapes for a moment, jaw dropped, before his brow furrows.  “Wait, why was Nat sending you videos?”

His question only makes you more flustered.  “I was asking her for advice… on how to let you know I was ready.”

His lips twitch into a tilted smile.  “And were the videos helpful?”

You shrug your shoulders “Well, they certainly didn’t teach me about that thing you did with your fingers… and they definitely used their mouths a lot more…  but I don’t mean for kissing.”

Steve raises a brow.  “How were they using their mouths?”  He’s pretty sure he  _knows_  what they were doing, but he kind of wants to hear what you’ll say.

“What?” you start, eyes widening.  “I mean- they… uh, well.  You see, she kind of had his… you know… but then in another video he had his on her…” You don’t even know how to find the correct words to describe the videos, and you know you’re only digging yourself into a deeper hole.

“Perhaps a demonstration would help?” Steve enquires, no longer able to keep the teasing grin off his face.

“A demo—Steve!”  You notice the smile on his face and slap his shoulder, finally realizing what he had been doing.  He knew exactly what you were talking about, and was only trying to embarrass you.

He laughs loudly, wrapping his arms around you and tucking your body into his chest before you can slap him again.  “I’m just teasing.”

“That was mean,” you mumble, burying your face in his chest.

He rubs your back.  “Could I make it up to you by demonstrating that mouth thing on you?”

“Are you serious?” you ask, looking up at him in surprise.  “Do you really want to try that?”  You don’t know if that’s even more embarrassment you’re feeling or something else entirely.

His gaze darkens, “There’s a lot of things that I want to try with you.”

Your whole body flushes with heat and your not sure if his words are supposed to thrill you as much as they do.  “O-okay,” you consent.  “Though, maybe not tonight.  I’m kind of satisfied with how things have gone so far.”  You drop your gaze, watching your finger draw small circles against his chest.

Steve smiles tenderly and nods in agreement.  “Me, too.” He cups the side of your face before leaning in for a sweet kiss.

The two of you clean up a little and brush your teeth before Steve sweeps you off your feet once again and takes you to bed.  You shift beneath the blankets, tucking yourself against his side.  “Do you have to be in early tomorrow?” you ask, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

He hooks his arm under your waist, holding you close.  “I’ve got training exercises with the STRIKE team at 8.”

“Can you wake me up before you leave?” you ask, briefly wondering if that sounds too needy.

“Of course I can,” Steve promises with a kiss to your forehead.  “But then you can’t get mad at me when I do.”

You laugh sweetly.  “Deal.”

He reaches over to turn off the light, engulfing the two of you in darkness.  You close your eyes and allow yourself to drift off with Steve’s steady heartbeat as your lullaby.


	13. Chapter 13

The weeks continue to pass. You and Steve try to maintain as normal a rhythm as possible, given how often he leaves on missions.  Some times he’s only gone for a few days, sometimes it’s whole weeks that you are apart.

After the grand opening of the museum exhibit, you once again find yourself in between jobs.  Upon Steve’s suggestion, you begin to take classes at the local university with the intention of earning a degree in fashion. It took a little help from SHIELD to get faked high school transcripts, but with the Museum backing you as a reference, it wasn’t as difficult as you thought to get accepted.

Your classes were certainly interesting, learning the history of fashion over the decades you had missed.  You welcomed the distraction, especially when Steve was away.

* * *

You feel the brush of warm lips against your shoulder, the feather like touch stirring you from sleep. You release a groan of protest, burying your face further into your pillow.

“I’m going out for a run,” Steve’s hushed words flutter across your cheek.

Your eyes blink open, gaze blurred as you look around the darkened room.  “S’not even light out,” you mumble incredulously.

Steve’s chest vibrates against your back as he chuckles.  He leans his head down once more, kissing your temple.  “Love you, sweetheart.”  You feel the bed shift as he moves toward the edge on his side.

“Love you, too,” you sigh softly, eyes closing shut and almost immediately falling back asleep.

When you wake up again, it’s at a much more reasonable time, morning sunlight shining through the curtains. You shift onto your back, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.  A small frown pulls at your lips.  Normally, you’re able to hear Steve rummaging around in your kitchen; the coffee pot trickling, and the scent of breakfast wafting through the air.  Now though, your apartment is dead silent.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand and see you have a message from him that came half an hour ago.

**_Called onto a mission.  Got picked up by Nat._ **

Your shoulders slump with your sigh.  You hated these spur-of-the-moment missions most.  Hated that you didn’t get the chance to tell him goodbye.  You’re unsure if he’ll even get it at this point, but you type out a reply anyway.

**_Good luck.  See you when you get back._ **

You kick off your covers and begin to get ready for your day.  Everything always feels a little more monotonous when he’s gone.  Food tastes bland, colors don’t seem as bright. The bedsheets are definitely colder when you’re crawling back into them at the end of the day.

You’re at the university library the next afternoon, doing research for a paper when your phone vibrates against the table.  Steve’s name displays across the screen.

**_Where are you?_ **

Your heart skips a beat and you can’t help but smile when you feel his do the same in response.

**_School library_ **

You wait a few minutes to see if he’ll respond, but when nothing comes through, you turn back to your work.

“Hey,” the familiar voice pulls your gaze up.

You smile brightly, “Hi!” Your smile quickly falters when you take a closer look at him.  He looks tired, his features pulled tight, shoulders stiff.  “Are you okay?” you ask in concern.

Steve releases a low sigh before dropping his gaze.  “No.” The image of the Project Insight Helicarriers is fresh in his mind.  As soon as he left the Triskellion, he came straight here to you.

You quickly begin to gather your things.  “Come on. Let’s go down to the café,” you suggest. Swinging your bag onto your shoulder, you entwine your fingers with his and gently pull him behind you.

Steve is silent the whole time as you order a couple coffees for the both of you and then take a seat. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” you finally ask after several minutes have passed with Steve just staring blankly out the window.

He blinks, meets your gaze for a moment, before it drops down to the table.  “There’s something going on at SHIELD that I don’t agree with, and I just…”  He sighs once again.  “I don’t know what to do about it.”

Your head tilts slightly as you observe him.  “Well, what are your options?”

He huffs out a humorless laugh, looking back out the window.  “I don’t think I really have any.”  You watch the look of concentration on his face as he chooses his next words.  “It’s like the longer I’m here, in this world, in this time, the less I feel like myself.  Like every day, another part of me is getting chipped away.  That soon, I won’t even know who I am anymore…”

Your brows furrow in concern, your hand reaching out for his where it rests on the table top.  Your fingers gently thread between his. Steve’s gaze is drawn to the brush of your touch, his hand accepting yours with a slight squeeze.

“I only ever feel normal when I’m with you, now.” He confesses.  “But I’m terrified that if I lose myself, I’ll lose you, too.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve,” you assure him.  “We’re in this together.  You’re acting like it’s just you against the world, but it’s not.  I’m here.  Let me be here.  Let me help you.”  You sit up in your chair, leaning a little closer to him.  “You say you don’t know who you are?  Well I guess you’re in luck, because I know enough about Steve Rogers to fill a museum.”

Steve scoffs out a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders lessening.  “You didn’t fill a  _whole_ museum.  Just part of one.”

You grin cheekily, more than happy to see a smile on his face again.  “Well a girl has to keep  _some_  secrets to herself.”

“You know…” he starts, losing himself to his thoughts once more.  “I think I’m going to go back again.”

“To the museum?” you question.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Maybe it’ll help.  To see myself then, so I can figure out who I am now.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Do you want me to go with you?”

He shakes his head. “You were clearly in the middle of something.  I should let you get back to it.”

“It’s fine, Steve.  I-”

“No, really,” he insists. “I’m already feeling better having talked to you.  I’ll be okay on my own.”  He pushes his chair back, then moves to pull yours out before you stand as well.

“Okay, but if you need anything just call.”

He gives you a soft smile. “You got it.”  Leaning down, he places a chaste kiss to your lips.

You watch him leave the café before heading back to the library and delving once more into your research.  You’re so caught up in your books and notes that you don’t even realize when night falls. Your phone vibrates once again. Another message from Steve.

**_Don’t go back to the apartment._ **

You frown in confusion at the cryptic message.  Picking up the phone, you dial his number.  It goes straight to voicemail.  Ending the call, you begin to pack your things once more.  It’s when you’re crossing through the café that your gaze catches the television mounted to the wall.  You gasp, stopping short when you see a string of police cars outside your apartment complex.  The words running across the screen makes your stomach drop.

_Assassination attempt of SHIELD Director.  Shot multiple times—in critical condition._

You jump when your phone begins to vibrate in your hand.  Steve’s name is flashing across the screen.  You rush to answer the call.

“Steve, are you okay?! I saw the news report.  What happened?” you rush out.

“I’m okay.  Fury’s in surgery right now.  I’m at the hospital.”

“Steve, what’s going on?” you release a shaky breath, your eyes unmoving from the television.

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me very carefully.  Are you still at the library?”

“Yeah…”

“I need you to go somewhere safe.  Not the apartment.  Somewhere—anywhere else.  After you hang up with me, turn your phone off and take the battery out.  Don’t turn it back on.  If you have to pay for anything, use cash only.”

“Steve, stop.  You’re scaring me,” you can feel your heart pounding in your chest harder with every word from his mouth.

“I know, sweetheart, but this is serious.  Something isn’t right here, and I need to make sure that you’re safe.  Can you do what I’ve told you to do?”

“I-” your voice cracks. “Yes.”

“Good girl.  Get somewhere safe and stay there until I come for you.  Try not to talk to anyone and try not to be seen.”

“Steve, be careful. Please,” you whisper brokenly. You can tell by the tone in his voice that something is definitely off.

“You too.  Stay safe.  I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your hands are shaking as you pull the phone from your ear.  You stare at the black screen of the phone, your mind spinning with Steve’s instructions. You then turn it off and pull out the battery, shoving both items into your bag.

You find yourself checking into a small hotel on the other side of town.  You have the news running on the small television hoping to get any information as to what is going on.  However, the media is just as clueless as you are.  You hardly get any sleep that night.

You’re woken up hours later by the growling of your stomach.  You’d barely eaten the day before having spent the whole day in the library, and now your body was severely protesting.  You remember seeing a sandwich shop on the way to the hotel. It was probably only a block or so down.

You freshen up in the bathroom, the best you can without having clothes to change into, before heading out.  As soon as you’re outside, you begin to get a bad feeling.  Steve had told you to stay put.  To wait until he showed up.  But as soon as you’re about to turn back for the hotel, your stomach growls angrily again.

Releasing a low sigh, you steel your resolve and start down the street.  The shop isn’t very far, but you can’t help feeling like you’re being watched.  You tell yourself that you’re just being paranoid.  Still, you find yourself hurrying your footsteps.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you step into the sandwich shop.  Your mind is so frazzled, it takes you a minute to gather yourself enough to read the menu board and order something.  You pay with cash and then wait off to the side as your sandwich is getting made.  You give the man behind the counter a gentle smile as you take the plastic bag from him before leaving the shop.

You’re halfway between the shop and the hotel when a black SUV pulls up to the curb suddenly.  You stop short as three men step out of the vehicle, all wearing black.  “Ma’am, we’re with SHIELD.  We need you to come with us.”

You hear alarm bells going off in your head.  Every single one of your lessons from Natasha starts flashing through your mind.  Steve wouldn’t send complete strangers to come get you for him.  And he certainly wouldn’t send  _three_  burly men for just you.  He admitted that something wasn’t right at SHIELD.  This was only proving his point.

“I think you have the wrong person,” you tell them, feigning confusion.

Unfortunately, none of them look convinced.  You take a few cautious steps back as they approach, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

As soon as one of them is just outside of arm’s length, you find yourself swinging the plastic bag in your hand.  The sandwich inside hits him in the face.  It’s not heavy enough to cause any damage, except mildly stunning him.  You quickly follow that up with a swift jab to his throat before darting around the back of their car.

You hear the other two shout, giving orders to each other as they set out to pursue you.  You run across the street, looking for any form of help.  The street is mysteriously deserted, though.  You yelp when you feel a set of arms enclose around your waist, yanking you back.

You struggle against the man’s hold, attempting to slam your head back into his, but he dodges just in time. “Grab her legs!”  the man shouts to the other one.

“No!  Let me go!” you scream, kicking your legs out as the second man tries to grab them.

You manage to get him in the nose.  “Shit!” he screams, hands releasing your other foot to stem the now steady flow of blood streaming down his face.

That’s when the first man you attacked makes his reappearance.  He seems to have recovered from your throat jab, but it’s only made him pissed off.  He wrangles your legs with only slight effort, pinning them between his obscenely muscled arms and torso.

“Get her to the car,” the man behind you barks out.

You continue your attempts to struggle as they carry you back across the street.  They have just about reached the SUV when the sound of screeching tires can be heard from down the street.  The two men holding you stiffen and pause their movements.

“MOVE!” you hear one of them shout.

You barely even have time to scream in surprise before they’re dropping you onto the hard concrete and jumping out of the way of the oncoming vehicle.  It comes to a screeching halt right next to you before the passenger door swings open.

“Get in!”  The feminine voice draws your attention.  You find yourself looking up into the semi-familiar gaze of Agent Maria Hill.

You scramble to your feet and jump into the car.  It’s moving again before you even have a chance to close the door.

Your breath is coming in shallow pants as you correct your seating and pull the door shut, glancing through the side mirror at the men attempting to gather themselves and get back into their own car.  Agent Hill turns the corner and the men are no longer in sight.  She maneuvers expertly along the streets and between traffic. The mystery men not even having a chance at catching up.

“Who were those people? Where’s Steve?” you ask, your voice shaking as you attempt to gather yourself.

“I’m afraid I don’t really have the answer to either of those questions,” Agent Hill quips, not even sparing you a glance.

There’s a pit forming in your stomach.  It feels like everything inside you is twisting into knots.  “Where are we going?” you ask after a moment of silence.

“Somewhere you will be safe.”

You release another shaky breath, trying to slow the rapid beating of your heart.  You don’t want Steve to worry about you, because then he won’t be worrying about himself.  You stare blankly out the car window, wondering just what in the world is going on.


	14. Chapter 14

The place Maria takes you is completely made of concrete and smells damp.  There is a constant sound of moving water that seems to echo around the long hall.  She walks at a brisk pace, with purpose, turning swiftly into an open room.

“Oh my God…” you breathe, when as you step into the room, you’re greeted by the sight of Director Fury laying prone on a hospital bed.  “Is he…?”

“Not dead yet.” Your gaze is drawn to the man standing beside him, checking the machinery that Fury is hooked into.

“What’s his status?” Maria asks.

“The Tetrodotoxin hasn’t worn through quite yet, but we will be able to begin the resuscitation process soon.”  You quickly realize that this man must be a doctor.

Maria nods curtly before moving on to the next room.  You hesitate a moment and then follow her.  “What are you going to do now?” you ask, watching as she sits at a meal desk with a computer and three monitors.

She begins typing with the keyboard, the sound of rapid clicking filling the air.  “I’m trying to find your boyfriend,” she mumbles offhandedly, her eyes glued to the monitors.  “He ditched his uniform then went off the grid.  SHIELD has facial recognition running throughout the city.  Not sure if I should be relieved that nothing’s popped up yet, or not.”

You feel your stomach drop. It’s only there for a brief moment, but as Maria hacks into SHIELD’s files, you see Steve’s face on the screen. It’s his SHIELD identification picture. You’ve seen it a million times, on his security badge, and in the voice activated elevator whenever you would grab lunch together.  But this time, in bold red letters beneath the picture, WANTED FUGITAVE is written clearly.

You grip the back of her chair when your head suddenly swims.  “Steve is a wanted criminal?” you ask breathlessly.

“Director Fury entrusted him with some intel that’s put a target on his back.  Someone at SHIELD is trying to keep things quiet.  I intend to find out who.  But first, we need to find the Captain.”

You want to ask how you can help, but you feel like you’ve been frozen in place.  You were way out of your depth here.  The feeling of uselessness has never gripped you so tightly as in this moment.

“Shit,” Maria curses under her breath.

Your grip tightens on the chair.  “What?” you ask hesitantly.

“The USB drive that Fury gave to Steve has just been activated at the mall.  The STRIKE team is already on their way.  They’ll be there long before I could even get close.”

You attempt to swallow around the lump in your throat.  “Is there nothing we can do?”

Maria continues to type. “I’m bringing up the security cameras in the mall.  See if you can identify him.”  You watch as a series of widows running different angles of camera footage pop up on the various screens.  “The homing beacon is coming from the Apple store,” she points out to you.  “The security cameras inside the store run on their own Network, but maybe we can see him going inside.  I’ll play the last few minutes.”

“There,” you point your finger to the screen at a tall figure wearing a baseball cap.

“You sure?” Maria questions. With the overhead angle of the camera, you can’t see the man’s face.

“I’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere.  I’ve certainly measured them enough times.”

Maria throws you an amused look over her shoulder, one brow raised, and lips tilted.

You flush with embarrassed heat.  “For his uniform!” you clarify.

She chuckles quietly, turning back to the monitors.  “Let’s see if we can get another angle.  See who’s with him.”

As the two figures turn into the store, you see a flash of red poke out from under the shorter person’s hoodie.

“He’s with Romanoff,” Maria states as you come to the same conclusion.  She begins to type again.  “I’m going to switch back to the live feed.  Watch for them leaving the store.  STRIKE will be there in about five minutes, so they’d better move quick.”

You keep your eyes glued to the screen, barely even blinking as the time continues to pass without any sign of them leaving.  You’re not sure if the rapid beat of your heart is from your own anxiousness or Steve’s.

“STRIKE is on site,” Maria informs you, continuing to monitor SHIELD’s progress from the left screen.

“Come on,” you urge. From a few of the other camera angles, you recognize a few of the Strike operatives walking through the mall.  They’re beginning to close in on the Apple store. “There!” you breathe when you see the two figures leaving the store.  Only to then choke on said breath when you realize they’re walking straight toward two STRIKE members.

You notice the way Steve squares his shoulders, his posture shifting as he prepares for a fight. Your grip on the chair tightens to the point of pain as you pray to anyone that will listen in the hope that Steve doesn’t do anything stupid.  At the very last moment, you watch as he throws his arm around Natasha’s shoulders and ducks his head.  The two of them walk right passed the STRIKE members.

Your shoulders fall with relief as they seem to go unnoticed.  Maria shifts through the different cameras, keeping an eye on the two of them.  You watch as they step onto the downward escalator.

“Shit, that’s Rumlow,” Maria points at the figure stepping onto the upward moving escalator.

“Oh God…” you hold your breath.  There’s no way he  _won’t_  recognize them.

You watch as Natasha suddenly turns to face Steve before pulling his lips down to hers.  Your heart stutters in your chest.  The emotion that you feel isn’t easily described as Rumlow gives them a quick glance before looking away.  Natasha pulls back a few seconds after Rumlow has passed, a lighter bounce to her steps as Steve shuffles awkwardly behind her.

A long silence drags on between you and Maria as Steve and Natasha make their way out of the mall undetected.  The cameras lose track of them once they get outside.

“Romanoff is one of the most highly trained agents at SHIELD.  I’m sure she had a reason-”

“I know,” you cut in, finally releasing your death grip on the chair and step back.  “It got them passed Rumlow.  I’m sure it didn’t mean anything.”  You give her a strained smile.

Before the conversation can move any further, the doctor steps into the room.  “Agent Hill, it’s time.”

Maria nods and promptly stands up.  The two of them move back into the room where Director Fury is.  You stay back, knowing that you’ll just be in the way.  You release a shaky breath, turning away from the computer monitors.  “Steve, stay safe,” you whisper, clutching a hand over your heart.

* * *

Maria and the doctor are able to resuscitate the director.  However, he’s left to rest for a few hours before they plan to truly wake him up.  In that time, the doctor insists that you have something to eat and that you rest yourself.  Though, just the thought of food makes you sick; falling asleep even more so.  Maria provides you with a change of clothes and shows you where a bathroom and shower are located in the building.

After you’ve cleaned up, you take to pacing behind Maria’s desk as she works, continuing to monitor SHIELD while simultaneously looking for where Steve and Natasha could have gone after the mall.  Time seems to slow with each minute that passes without knowing where Steve is or what could be happening to him.  All you can do is remind yourself that as long as you were alive, then so was he.

It’s late in the evening when Maria gets her next hit.  “STRIKE is mobilizing the jets.  The USB drive has just been reactivated.”

“Where?” you ask, moving to look over her shoulder again.

“Camp Lehigh.  It’s a military institution, but it’s been closed for decades…”

“That’s where Steve was sent before he took the serum,” you state, the name catching your memory.  You watch as an alarm warning flashes on her left monitor.  MISSILE INBOUND.  The target location is shown on a map.  You gasp and cover your mouth.  “Oh my God. Can you stop it?!”

“Not when it’s already inbound,” she bites out, typing frantically.

A live view from the missile shows up on the screen, aimed directly at a bunker in the middle of the abandoned Army camp.

“No!” you yelp when it hits and the image goes black.

Your vision swims and you’re fully expecting this to be your end.  The seconds that pass seem like entire minutes.  The only sound that you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears. You try to concentrate on the pounding in your chest, wondering which beat is going to be your last.  Time seems to come to a complete standstill.

Everything then snaps back into focus with the next second.  Your legs giving out as you crumple to the cement floor.  “Y/N!” Maria calls out, jumping out of her chair.

“He’s still alive!” you breathe a shaky breath.  You press your hand to your chest, feeling the confirmation beat proudly against your palm.  “He’s okay.” Your eyes fill with relieved tears as Maria crouches in front of you and grabs your shoulders to make sure you’re alright.

Her shoulders sag, sharing your relief.

Fury wakes up soon after and Maria updates him on what’s been happening.

“We can’t keep monitoring from the back end,” Fury tells her after hearing the full report.  “I need you to infiltrate STRIKE.  They’re getting way too close for comfort and I need someone on the ground when they finally succeed.  Rogers won’t be able to evade them forever.  Even with Romanoff at his side.”

“Yes, sir.”  Maria nods before leaving the room to prepare.

The doctor steps back up to Fury’s side.  “You need your rest.”  He moves to inject some medicine into the IV line.

“Sure thing Doc.  Just make sure this one gets some too.  She looks just about as bad as I feel,” he indicates toward you.

“Gee, thanks,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest as you frown.

The doctor chuckles quietly. After he’s finished with Fury’s injection, he moves to his medical kit.  He shakes a pill from a plastic container into his palm.  “Here,” he holds it out to you.  “It’ll help you sleep.”

You hesitate a moment before taking the pill from him.  You nod slowly, turning from the room to get a glass of water and move to the cot you’ve been provided with.  You’re not entirely sure what time it is, but based on your exhaustion, its likely well into the night, maybe even early morning.  Despite how tired you feel, you don’t see you mind settling any time soon, so after you’ve settled onto the bed, you quickly swallow the pill.

Several minutes pass without effect.  You lay there as your mind continues to race.  You just keep playing the mantra in your head.   _As long as your heart still beats, so does his._

You barely notice as your thoughts begin to grow muddled.  Mere seconds later and you’re out like a light.  Pulled into a dreamless sleep as the medication works its magic.

The effects from the pill take hours to wear off.  When you finally wake up, you still feel groggy.  You sit up slowly, blinking the blurriness from your eyes.  As the world slowly comes into focus, you can hear voices from the other room.

“Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?”

You gasp quietly at the recognizable voice.  You wonder briefly if you were hearing things.

“Any attempt on the director’s life had to look successful,” you hear Maria’s response.

“Can’t kill you if you’re already dead,” Fury then speaks.  You push yourself out of the cot, then cautiously make your way over.  “Besides… I wasn’t sure who to trust.”

As you step through the doorway, the eyes of everyone in the room shift to you.  You’ve only got your gaze locked onto one set.  “Steve,” you gasp, rushing over to him in the next second.

“Y/N?”  He looks just as surprised and relieved as you do, arms wrapping tight around you the second you slam into his chest.

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours and slanting your lips against his. He kisses back fervently, one arm tightening like a vice around your waist as the other cradles the back of your head.

“Damn.  What’s a guy gotta do to get a welcome like that?” you hear an unfamiliar voice interrupt your moment.

You pull back, embarrassed that you’d forgotten about your audience.

Steve laughs lightly, keeping your body tucked into his side as he turns to the man that just spoke.  “Sorry, Sam this is my soulmate.  Y/N, meet Sam Wilson.”

“Hi”, you smile shyly.

Sam gives you a toothy grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You close your eyes and press your cheek to Steve’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. A frown pulls at your lips.  His heart may be steady, but his body is shaking. Your eyes crack open once more, head tilting up.  “Steve?” you question quietly.

He reads the concern on your face, his hold on you tightening further.  “Bucky’s still alive,” he whispers.

Your heart skips a beat.


End file.
